THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF. CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


: 


V 


EL   ESTRANJERO 


In  the  canon's  depths 


EL  ESTRANJERO 

(THE  STRANGER) 
A  STORY  OF   SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA 


BY 

RUSSELL  JUDSON  WATERS 

AUTHOR  OF 

Lyric  Echoes,  Legend  of  Tauquito,  Peter 

Dunderhead  Papers,  A  Man  for  Breakfast,  A  Pioneer 

Woman,  The  Dude's  Hunt 


Illustrated  by 
WILL  E.  CHAPIN 


RAND   McNALLY  &   COMPANY 

CHICAGO  1910  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1910,  bu 
Rand,  McNally  &  Company 


&anb*jflcj%all|» 

Chicago 


1A/33/ 


TO   THE 

EARLY  PIONEERS 

Whose  energy,  thrift,  perseverance,  and  belief  in 
its  glorious  future  made  possible  the  wonderful 
development  of  this  fair  land  of 

SOUTHERN    CALIFORNIA 


CONTENTS 


Prologue    ... 

CHAPTER 

I.  EL  ESTRANJERO       . 

II.  THE  RESCUE  .    .    . 

III.  ON  THE  TRAIL 

IV.  A  BETROTHAL 

V.  AFTER  MANY  YEARS 

VI.  THE  SENORITA       .       . 

VII.  HOME  AGAIN  . 

VIII.  THE  WARNING 

IX.  THE  RODEO     .        . 

X.  THE  RAID        .        .        .       . 

XI.  PHILIP     .        .        .        . 

XII.  A  WOODLAND  DRAMA    . 

XIII.  A  NARROW  ESCAPE 

XIV.  IN  TOUCH  WITH  THE  ENEMY 
XV.  THE  CAPTIVE  . 

XVI.  FRANCESCA'S  SECRET    . 

XVII.  THE  COUNCIL 

XVIII.  WOODLAND  ADVENTURES 

XIX.  THE  FIGHT  AT  CRAFTON 

XX.  A  TALE  OF  THE  FRONTIER   . 

XXI.  A  DESERT  TRAGEDY 

XXII.  IN  THE  PASS   . 

XXIII.  THE  PURSUIT  .        . 

XXIV.  NAWONA 
XXV.  THE  RUNAWAY 

XXVI.  THE  RETURN  JOURNEY 

XXVII.  BLACKBERRYING    . 


PAGE 
5 

7 
10 

i5 

22 
26 
32 

37 
43 
48 
56 
63 
67 

73 

•  78 
.      84 

90 

.  98 
.  101 
,  106 
,  109 
.  116 

.  122 
.  126 

•  131 
,      136 

.  144 
.  148 


M314155 


CONTENTS— Continued 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVIII.      CAMPING  155 

XXIX.      AT  SPRING  ROCK 161 

XXX.  CONFIDENCES          .               .        .        .   167 

XXXI.  A  LESSON  IN  LOVE        .       .       .        .172 

XXXII.  BY  THE  EVENING  FIRE.        .        ...    178 

.  XXXIII.  THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  ARROWHEAD      .   192 

XXXIV.  AN  UNDERSTANDING     .               .        .   202 

XXXV.  THE  LAST  NIGHT  IN  CAMP    .        .        .   210 

XXXVI.  IN  THE  VALLEY      ...               .220 

XXXVII.  PHILOSOPHY  BY  THE  WAY   .        .           228 

XXXVIII.  NAWONA  AND  FRANCESCA     .        .        .   239 

XXXIX.  THE  LOCKET  ...                        .247 

XL.  BOOTS  AND  SADDLES      ....    257 

XLI.  A  PSYCHIC  PHENOMENON     .        .        .   262 

XLII.  A  LETTER    .'..'...        .                .265 

XLIII.  THE  REVELATION  .                .        .        -   270 

XLIV.  A  PUEBLO  WEDDING     .        .        .        .286 

L' Envoi  .  .        .   294 


PROLOGUE 

The  scenes  portrayed  and  the  actions  reflected  in  the 
following  pages  are  in  most  instances  true  to  the  life 
of  early  days,  representing,  as  they  do,  many  of  the 
historical  events  which  transpired  in  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  of  the  western  settlements.  This  pueblo 
was  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  San  Bernardino  Range 
of  mountains  in  Imperial  county,  an  empire  in  itself, 
one  of  the  proudest  counties  in  the  Golden  State. 

While  the  sons  and  daughters  of  this  great  com 
monwealth  were  then  deeply  enamored  with  and  proud 
of  their  beautiful  land,  they  never  in  their  wildest 
flights  of  imagination  pictured  the  great  advancement 
and  growth  since  made  in  the  southern  part  of  this 
giant  state. 

From  a  few  modest,  vine-covered  cottages  and  sun- 
dried  adobes  of  the  early  sixties,  widely  scattered  over 
the  plains  from  the  mountains  to  the  ocean,  at  inter 
vals  so  great  that  it  might  well  bear  the  appellation 
of  "the  settlement  of  magnificent  distances/'  the  sec 
tion,  formerly  known  as  the  "cow  counties"  of  Cali 
fornia,  has  grown  in  population,  wealth  and  impor 
tance,  until  it  now  maintains  a  position  equal,  if  not 
superior,  to  any  part  of  the  state. 

This  may  be  said  of  nearly  all  of  the  country  lying 
south  of  the  Tehachipi.  From  mountains  to  ocean  the 
growth  and  improvement  has  been  phenomenal.  All 
that  could  be  desired  and  more  than  could  have  been 

[5] 


6  PROLOGUE 

expected  in  a  country  known  as  semiarid — much  of 
it  down  on  the  maps  of  our  country  as  desert  land — 
has  been  accomplished. 

To  the  student  and  lover  of  nature,  and  to  those  of 
a  romantic  turn  of  mind,  the  earlier  history  of  Cali 
fornia  appeals  with  overwhelming  force,  and  dwarfs 
into  insignificance  any  material  improvement. 

To  those  living  in  the  valley,  in  sight  of  the  moun 
tains,  with  their  ever-varying  scenery  of  light  and 
shade,  forest  and  vale,  sunshine  and  shadow,  and  their 
myriad  attractions,  there  is  an  endless  charm  which 
is  irresistible. 


Stampede  through  camp 


EL  ESTRANJERO 

(THE  STRANGER) 


CHAPTER  I 

EL    ESTRANJERO 

"Brown  night  retires,  young  day  pours  in  apace, 

And  opens  all  the  lawny  prospect  wide, 
The  dripping  rock,  the  mountain's  misty  top, 

Swell  on  the  sight  and  brighten  with  the  dawn." 

The  pueblo  of  Elevado  was  a  pastoral  com 
munity  with  houses  built  of  battened  rough  pine 
boards  brought  from  the  sawmill  on  the  mountain, 
instead  of  the  sun-dried  adobe  brick  used  by  the  valley 
dwellers. 

One  of  these  houses  standing  near  the  center  of 
the  pueblo  was  more  pretentious  than  the  rest.     It 
was,  like  the  others,  one  story  in  height,  but  its  shake 
roof  was  laid  shingle-wise,  and  its  many  rooms  were  *••- 
arranged  around  three  sides  of  a  square,  the  pillars*^ 
of  its  wide  verandas  covered  with  climbing  roses  and 
honeysuckle  and  shaded  with  willow.     Pepper,  palm, 
and  banana  trees  flourished  in  the  patio,  and  roses  ^ 
ran  riot  everywhere,  while  its  ranks  of  orange  trees  '^z" 
stretched  downward  toward  the  valley,   in  beautiful 


regularity  of  shape  and  outline. 

' 


There  was  an  air  pi 


8  EL  ESTRANJERO 

of  homely  comfort  and  thrift  about  this  place  which 
indicated  that  the  owner  was  a  person  of  consequence 
in  the  community. 

Upon  a  beautiful  morning  a  man,  coming  from  the 
direction  of  the  mountains,  and  apparently  in  des 
perate  straits,  was  making  his  way  through  the 
valley  toward  the  settlement.  He  was  hatless,  coatless, 
and  shoeless,  and  his  appearance  indicated  that  he 
had  been  engaged  in  a  fierce  hand  to  hand  encounter. 
Ragged,  unkempt  and  dirty,  he  looked  as  though 
weeks  or  months  might  have  passed  since  he  had 
known  comfort  or  shelter.  His  eyes  were  wide  and 
unseeing  like  those  of  a  somnambulist,  and  he  groped 
with  his  hands  as  he  staggered  along,  turning  occa 
sionally  and  attempting  feebly  to  run  back,  then  again 
setting  his  face  toward  the  pueblo  and  tottering 
forward. 

His  every  movement  showed  physical  weakness 
and  mental  confusion,  and  yet  there  seemed  to  be  a 
purpose  holding  him  that  impelled  him  onward. 
Struggling,  falling,  and  rising  many  times,  until  it 
seemed  that  he  must  surrender  and  lie  down  to  die, 
he  at  length  fell  and  lay  so  still  that  the  ever  watch 
ful  buzzards,  circling  nearer  and  nearer,  came  so 
-close  to  him  that  the  wing  of  the  most  venturesome 
brushed  his  cheek.  Involuntarily  his  hand  was  raised 
to  protect  his  face,  and  falling  back,  splashed  in  a  little 
runlet. 

The  touch  of  the  water  revived  him  and  like  a 
wounded  snake  he  dragged  himself  half  a  length, 


EL  ESTBANJEKO 


dropped  his  head  to  the  cool  surface  of  the  stream, 
and  drank  long  and  deeply. 

Apparently  refreshed,  he  laved  his  swollen  feet  in 
the  water,  dashed  it  over  his  head,  face,  and  arms, 
and  after  sitting  for  a  few  minutes  with  every  muscle 
relaxed  as  if  in  an  agony  of  weariness,  he  painfully 
got  on  his  feet  and  again  set  out  toward  the  pueblo, 
now  but  a  few  furlongs  distant. 

A  bunch  of  broncos  grazing  near  by,  raised  their 
heads  and  with  a  snort  galloped  away  as  he  rose  to 
his  feet — all  except  one,  a  half-broken  creature,  staked 
with  a  long  rope  at  which  it  pulled  furiously. 

In  the  same  groping  manner,  as  though  he  were 
blind,  the  wayfarer  started  forward;  but  he  tripped 
over  the  stake  rope,  entangling  himself  as  he  fell. 
The  terrified  bronco  at  last  succeeded  in  pulling  the 
stake  from  the  ground,  and  as  the  man  had,  in  his 
efforts  to  free  himself,  wound  the  rope  about  his 
body,  the  stake  caught  firmly  in  some  of  his  tattered 


clothing,  and  thus  through  the  grass  and  dust,  half- 
dead  and  wholly  unconscious,  he  was  dragged  toward 
the  house  built  around  three  sides  of  a  square  in  the 
Pueblo  or  Elevado. 


CHAPTER  II 


THE    RESCUE 

On    the   wide   western   veranda    of   the    Holcomb 
ranch  house  a  boy  and  girl  were  swinging  in  a  ham 
mock,    their     feet    outstretched    so   that   they    struck 
against    the    veranda    railing    with    every    forward 
swing,  giving  the  impetus  for  the  delightful  motion. 
The  girl  might  have  been  eleven  or  twelve,  and  the 
boy  was  about  the  same  age.     She  was  fair-haired 
and  blue-eyed,  with  the  ungainly  length  of  arm  and 
leg  characteristic  of  that   period   of   childhood,   but 
\  giving  promise   of   future  bloom   and   beauty.     The 
x  boy  was  dark-haired  and  brown-eyed,  but  his  natu- 
I  rally   dark  complexion  was  yet  fairer  than   that   of 
4-  his  cousin,  who  was  freckled  by  the  wind  and  sun, 
while  the  absence  of  tan  on  his  own  skin  showed  him 
*x  new  to  the  ardor  of  the  California  climate. 

In  the  patio  an  Indian  lad,  dressed  in  faded  blue  f 
|  overalls  and  red  cotton  shirt,  was  squatting  upon  his 
bare  brown  heels,   plaiting  a  horsehair  riata,  while 
his  mother,    the    stolid-faced    Francesca,    was   busied 

;f\  about  a  fire,  over  which  hung  a  kettle  of  boiling 
j]\  water  suspended  from  a  pole  resting  in  the  crotches 
jjf  of  two  strong  oak  branches  set  in  the  ground.  The 
£  corn  husks  upon  a  low  bench  indicated  that  she  had 
finished  the  making  of  the  tamales,  the  last  of  which  '. 
she  now  dropped  into  the  kettle,  and  stood  with  arms  | 


THE  RESCUE 


11 


akimbo,  watching  a  distant  cloud  of  dust  that  might 
indicate  an  approaching  horseman. 

"Alice,"  the  boy  was  saying,  "Auntie  said  last  night 
that  there  ain't  no  school  at  all  here  that's  fit  for  a 
big  girl  like  you.  Gimini !  Alice,  I  wished  I  lived  here 
all  the  time,  'cause  if  there  ain't  no  school  fit  to  go 
to  I'd  stay  at  home,  and  me  and  Juan  would  fish  all 
day,  an'  hunt  and  have  lots  of  fun,  wouldn't  we, 
Juan?"  The  Indian  lad  looked  up  with  an  assenting 
nod  and  a  grin  that  showed  his  white  teeth. 

"And,  Alice,"  the  boy  went  on,  "Auntie  said  that 
when  Papa  goes  back  she's  goin'  to  send  you  with 
us  to  go  to  school  till  you're  all  growed  up,  now  what 
do  you  think  of  that?" 

Alice's  blue  eyes  widened  as  she  stared  at  the 
speaker.  "Phil,"  she  said,  "I  think  you  are  one  great 
big  story  teller." 

"No,  honest,  Alice,  cross  my  heart,"  said  the  child, 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  and  thus  giving  the 
inviolable  sign  of  childhood  that  he  told  the  truth. 
"Cross  my  heart,"  he  said  again,  "Auntie  did  say  it." 
-.^  "I  won't  go,"  Alice  said,  setting  her  red 
together  firmly.  "I  won't  go  back  East  where 
ain't  no  Juan  and  Francesca  and  no  Daddy  to 
me  ride  my  pony  after  the  cattle.  I'm  going  to 
here  and  be  a  cow-puncher-girl  when  I  grow  up. 
hate  school  and  I'll  run  away  if  Uncle  takes  me  back 
East.  What's  that,  Francesca,"  she  cried,  jumping 
from  the  hammock  so  suddenly  that  she  turned  it 
wrong  side  out  and  Phil  tumbled  to  the  floor. 


12  EL  ESTBANJEEO 

"That"  was  a  galloping  horse  dragging  a  rope,  at 
the  end  of  which  was  a  ragged  and  tattered  bundle. 

"Daddy!  Daddy,"  she  cried,  "Daddy!" 

A  tall,  bearded  man  with  his  sleeves  rolled  above 
his  elbows  appeared  in  the  doorway.  One  glance  and 
he  was  down  the  steps,  jerking  a  riata  from  a  nail  and 
coiling  it  as  he  ran. 

"Juan,"  he  cried,  "head  him!" 

The  lithe  Indian  lad  sprang  forward  waving  his 
arms,  the  horse  swerved,  and  in  an  instant  the  lariat 
fell  about  his  neck,  was  snubbed  neatly  around  the 
post  of  the  veranda  by  the  man,  and  the  animal  stood 
trembling  and  snorting,  the  bundle  but  a  few  feet 
distant  from  his  plunging  hoofs. 

A  stroke  of  a  knife  severed  the  stake  rope,  and 
Francesca  and  Juan,  aided  by  Holcomb,  laid  the  poor 
broken  form  upon  the  floor  of  the  veranda. 

"Where's  your  father,  Phil?"  Holcomb  asked  the 
boy. 

"He's  out  in  the  orchard  with  Auntie,  I'll  get  him," 
and  the  child  raced  away  calling  for  his  father  at  the 
top  of  his  voice. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Holcomb  and  her  brother 
appeared,  running,  for  the  boy  had  told  them  that  a 
man  was  dead  on  the  veranda. 

Phil's  father  was  a  physician,  taking  a  vacation  rest 
with  his  boy  in  his  sister's  California  home. 

Francesca  was  upon  her  knees  by  the  side  of  the 
.  prostrate  stranger,  dashing  water  into  his  face,  Hol 
comb  was  charing  his  wrists,  and  Alice  was  standing 


THE  RESCUE 


13 


white-faced  and  wide-eyed  gazing  down  upon  him. 

"Send  the  children  away,"  was  Dr.  Adams'  quick 
command,  "and  you,  Marian,"  to  his  sister,  "get  my 
case  from  my  bedroom." 

With  skillful  hands  he  cut  away  the  clothing  from 
the  bruised  body  and,  to  the  horrified  eyes  of  the  little 
group,  it  was  seen  that  they  were  black  with  the  clotted 
blood  of  old  wounds.  The  bruises  from  the  provi 
dential  accident  that  had  thrown  the  stranger  at  their 
feet,  were  not  serious  in  their  nature,  but  the  long 
festering  cuts  upon  his  back  and  shoulders,  the  marks 
of  a  bullet  that  had  grazed  the  scalp,  the  rudely  ban 
daged  bullet  wound  in  the  fleshy  part  of  the  upper 
arm,  all  told  a  story  of  a  fierce  encounter. 

"Indians,"  said  Holcomb,  as  he  stood  looking  down 
upon  the  unconscious  stranger,  who  had  been  laid 
upon  a.  bed  in  one  of  the  rooms  opening  off  the  patio. 
"Looks  like  the  work  of  'paches,  and  may  have  hap 
pened  a  hundred  miles  away  or  twenty  miles,  most 
likely  a  hundred.  How  in  thunder  he  got  himself  at 
the  end  of  Pete's  stake  rope  is  what  bothers  me.  If 
I  did  not  know  that  Pete  was  staked  less  than  half  a 
mile  from  home,  I'd  say  the  Indians  finished  their 
job  by  tying  him  to  the  end  of  the  rope,  They've 
done  such  tricks.  The  thing  to  do  now  is  to  find  out 
how  he  came  by  those  wounds.  Francesca,"  turning 
I  to  the  Indian  woman,  "you  stay  here  with — what  shall  ^^ 
fe^we  call  him?" 

11  Estranjero,"  muttered  the  woman. 
Veil,   you  stay  with   Sefior  El   Estranjero 


1 


14  EL  ESTBANJEKO 

and  day.  Don't  say  a  word  to  anybody  about  him, 
or  how  he  came  here.  Do  what  the  doctor  tells  you 
and,  above  all,  listen  and  remember  every  word  he 
says,  if  ever  he  gets  so  he  can  say  anything. 

"Marian,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  "keep  this  matter 
quiet.  There's  no  use  raising  a  hue  and  cry  need 
lessly.  If  there  are  Indians  about,  a  still  hunt  will  be 
sure  to  locate  them  and  we  will  stand  a  better  chance 
of  finding  the  devils  and  punishing  them  than  we 
would  to  raise  a  general  alarm. 

"I'll  take  Marco  and  Manuel  and  Juan,  and  if  we 
find  anything  it  will  be  time  enough  to  raise  a  rum 
pus.  There  is  no  use  in  needlessly  scaring  the  women 
and  children  with  a  false  Indian  alarm. 

"Go  call  Marco  and  Manuel,"  he  continued,  turn 
ing  to  Juan,  "and  be  back  here  in  an  hour.  Tell  them 
nothing  but  that  I  wish  them  to  come  with  their  guns 
and  canteens  and  jerky  enough  for  two  weeks  for 
the  four  of  us." 

He  cautioned  the  children  to  absolute  secrecy  about 
the  affair,  and  in  an  hour's  time  Holcomb  was  ready 
to  set  forth.  He  gave  instructions  to  his  ranch  fore 
man  and  his  herders  to  keep  a  wide  and  constant 
^lookout  for  danger  while  he  was  absent,  but  pledged 
fthem  to  silence  and  caution  with  regard  to  the  object 
of  that  vigilance. 

,~' — 


" 'The  scouts  followed  this  devious  trail." — Page  16 


CHAPTER  III 


ON   THE   TRAIL 

This  haste  in  setting  forth  was  necessary  if  the 
scouts  would  follow  the  backward  path  of  the  mys 
terious  stranger  before  the  action  of  the  elements  had 
obliterated  all  the  signs  that  constitute  what  is  known 
in  woodcraft  as  a  "trail." 

To  those  who  are  unfamiliar  with  the  methods  of 
following  a  trail,  learned  from  the  Indians  and  adopted 
by  the  pioneers,  it  is  as  mysterious  as  the  propul 
sion  of  birds  by  their  wings,  or  the  source  of  the 
power  in  electricity.  The  whole  science  of  wood 
craft  is  founded  upon  observation  and  long  experience 
in  the  wilderness.  Every  sign,  however  insignificant, 
is  carefuly  noted  and  the  reason  for  its  existence 
^ascertained.  A  footprint,  or  the  least  disturbance  of 
-Jjthe  soil  are  taken  as  certain  evidence  that  some- 
:  thing  has  passed  that  way.  A  bent  or  broken  twig, 
a  torn  leaf  from  bush  or  tree,  a  hair  from  an  animal, 
|  a  thread  from  a  piece  of  cloth,  and  a  thousand  things 
|  too  trivial  to  mention  are  signs  of  the  trail  that  read 
like  an  open  book. 

The   Indian,   or  experienced  woodsman,   follows  a 
trail  almost  unconsciously,  and  observes  the  signs  as 
we  of  the  city  would  notice  passing  objects  on 
street,  and  if  they  have  some  purpose  in  view — such 
as  the  hunting  of  game,  the  discovery  of  the  presence 


16 


EL  ESTRANJEBO 


of  an  enemy,  or  of  the  whereabouts  of  a  lost  friend 
— these  signs  are  always  keenly  noted. 

Holcomb  was  one  of  the  cleverest  of  these  woods 
men,  whose  craft  as  hunters  of  both  men  and  beasts 
seems  almost  preternatural.  The  Indians  he  had 
chosen  to  accompany  him  were  masters  of  the  art  of 
trailing;  for  with  all  the  white  man's  superior  intelli 
gence,  the  instinct  of  those  creatures,  both  human  and 
brute,  to  whom  the  wilderness  is  a  natural  home,  out 
strips  him  in  cunning.  Even  young  Juan  could  track 
a  horse  through  a  desert  by  signs  that  would  escape 
the  keenest  white  man,  and  Holcomb  often  said  that 
|  both  Marco  and  Manuel  could  "smell"  a  hostile  many 
miles  away. 

For  many  leagues  the  zig-zag  course  of  the  poor 
wanderer  was  plainly  marked.  It  was  evident  that 
he  had  come  from  the  northwest,  crossing  El  Cajon 
Pass,  and  recrossing  it  many  times,  traveling  at  times 
in  complete  circles,  as  bewildered  persons  in  mountains 
and  deserts  often  do. 

The  scouts  followed  this  devious  trail  far  across 
the  mountains  parallel  to  the  beautiful   San  Gabriel 
I  Range   on   the   desert-side,   toward   the   point   where 
Little  Rock  Creek  is  lost  in  the  sand. 

It  was  near  Mount  San  Antonio  that  they  came 
upon  a  spot  by  the  side  of  a  little  stream  where  they 
found  the  shreds  of  a  coat  heavy  with  clotted  blood. 
Here  the  brush  was  trampled,  broken,  and  even  torn 
up  by  the  roots,  and  the  footprints  of  a  man  and  that 
of  a  beast  were  visible  in  the  soft  earth,  while  the 


'The  trail  was  followed  to  the  edge  of  the  desert  where  it  was  lost  in 
sand." — Page  17 


ON  THE  TRAIL 


17 


rocks  showed  the  dark  stains  of  blood  drops.  Follow 
ing  this  blood  trail  into  the  brush,  the  Indians  found 
the  carcass  of  a  dead  mountain  lion,  with  the  blade 
of  a  hunter's  knife  broken  at  the  hilt  within  the 
skeleton. 

This  accounted  for  the  long  scratches  on  the  back 
and  shoulders  of  the  stranger,  but  how  he  came  by  his 
other  wounds  was  still  as  mysterious  as  ever.  The  lion 
of  California  will  not  attack  man  except  on  the  strong 
est  provocation ;  and,  as  the  dead  animal  was  a  lioness, 
it  was  evident  that  the  wayfarer  must  have  come 
unexpectedly  upon  her  and  her  cubs,  and  that  his  suc 
cessful  battle  for  life  must  have  been  terrific. 

Without  further  discoveries,  the  trail  was  followed 
across  the  Antelope  Valley  to  the  edge  of  the  desert 
where  it  was  lost  in  the  sand.  No  evidence  of  maraud 
ing  savages  was  found  anywhere,  and  Holcomb 
felt  a  great  relief  when,  from  the  heights  above 
Elevado,  he  again  saw  the  settlement  through  the 
golden  haze  of  the  setting  sun,  and  the  blue  smoke 
curling  from  his  own  chimney. 

Never  had  his  home  seemed  so  beautiful  to  Will 
iam  Holcomb  as  it  did  that  night,  when,  foot-sore  and 
weary,  he  lounged  on  the  steps  of  the  veranda  smok 
ing  his  pipe,  his  arm  about  the  waist  of  his  wife,  and 
Philip  and  Alice  nestling  at  his  feet  drinking  in  the 
story  of  his  trip.  Above  him  the  stars  seemed  to 
swing  from  the  sky,  pulsing  with  light.  The  moon 
bathed  the  valley  in  silver  glory,  making  the  little 


:.' . 


18 


EL  ESTBANJEEO 


river  look  like  a  bright  ribbon  tying  the  mountains  to 
the  distant  ocean. 

The  sombre  heights  stood  out  boldly  against  the 
moonlit  sky,  and  a  restless  mocking  bird  trilled  in  the 
climbing  rosebush  in  the  patio.  Whoever  has  heard 
the  California  mocking  bird  at  nighttime  singing  his 
song  full-throated,  liquid  and  lovely,  a  riot  of  esctatic 
melody,  has  heard  him  at  his  best,  and  then,  if  the  moon 
shone,  and  love  and  peace  spread  wide  their  brooding 
wings,  the  listener,  as  did  Merlin  of  old,  built  airy 
palaces  and  cities  from  the  unsubstantial  fabric  of  a 
dream. 

The  children  were  full  of  eager  questions  and 
Dr.  Adams  was  silent  and  thoughtful,  as  the  narrative 
proceeded. 

Within  the  house  there  was  but  a  single  light,  a 
candle  shaded  so  that  its  rays  might  not  disturb  the 
sick  man  who  lay  upon  the  bed  between  the  open  door 
and  window.  The  fragrant  breeze  from  the  patio,  the 
trill  of  the  mocking  bird,  the  low  voices  of  the  speak 
ers  outside,  all  sights  and  sounds  were  alike  to  him 
as  he  tossed  in  the  delirium  of  fever. 

By  his  side  sat  old  Francesca,  stolid  and  emotion 
less,  swaying  a  palm-leaf  fan.  Day  after  day  and 
.  night  after  night  she  had  tended  El  Estranjero,  seem 
ing  to  divine  his  every  want,  to  do  always  the  right 
thing,  to  soothe  him  in  his  wildest  delirium.  To 
night  he  rolled  his  head  from  side  to  side  muttering 
and  moaning.  The  old  woman  softly  laid  a  wet  cloth 
across  his  forehead,  and  soon  the  muttering  ceased 


ON  THE  TRAIL 


19 


and  the  patient  dropped  into  a  deep  sleep.  The  palm- 
leaf  fan  swayed  back  and  forth,  back  and  forth,  the 
eyes  of  the  old  woman  in  eager  scrutiny  upon  the 
sleeper's  face. 

Sitting  thus  she  listened  to  the  song  of  the  mocking 
bird,  but  soon  her  face  and  figure  became  rigid. 
For  many  minutes  she  sat,  stiff  and  staring, 
then  a  great  trembling  seized  upon  her,  and  crouching 
upon  the  floor  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  she  sent  out  a 
wild  and  piercing  "Ah— he!  Ah— he!  Ah— he!"  the 
wail  of  the  Indian  in  great  sorrow. 

The  group  upon  the  porch  heard  it. 

"Can 'he  be  dead?"  Holcomb  cried. 

"Impossible,"  said  the  doctor,  "he  has  been  improv 
ing  slowing  for  days  and  was  doing  well  when  I  left 
him  but  a  short  time  ago." 

Still  the  wail  of  the  woman  pierced  the  night,  and 
the  group  on  the  porch  rushed  into  the  sick  room. 

The  patient,  who  was  sitting  up  in  bed  staring 
about  him,  dropped  back  on  his  pillow  as  they  entered. 
His  gaze  was  conscious,  for  the  first  time  in  the  fort 
night  since  he  had  been  sheltered  by  that  friendly  roof. 

"What  is  it?"  he  whispered  feebly  as  the  doctor 
bent  over  him. 

"Ah — he!  Ah — he!"  crooned  the  Indian  woman. 

Holcomb  grasped  her  by  the  shoulders,  shaking  her 
as  one  shakes  a  sleeper. 

"Francesca,  Francesca,"  he  cried,  "tell  me  what's  the 
matter !  Stop  it,  stop  it,  I  tell  you !" 

"The  children,   the  children,"   wailed  the  woman, 


20 


EL  ESTBANJEBO 


"Oh,  mother  of  God,  Sefior,  the  poor  little  children!" 

"The  children  are  there,"  said  Holcomb,  pointing 
to  the  door  where  Alice  and  Philip  were  staring  in 
wonder  at  this  strange  scene. 

"Non,  Non,"  cried  the  Indian,  "the  children  with 
the  wagons." 

"Get  up,  Francesca/'  commanded  her  master.  She 
arose  and  stood  quietly  before  him,  the  tears  streak 
ing  her  dark  face.  "You  are  hysterical  and  worn  out 
from  watching,  you  must  go  now  and  send  Manuel's 
wife.  She  will  take  care  of  the  sick  one." 

At  these  words  Francesca  suddenly  resumed  her 
usual  stolidity.  "I  alone  know  the  wants  of  Sefior  El 
Estranjero,"  she  said  sullenly.  "Vera  is  a  young 
fool,  she  would  give  him  the  drink  when  the  Sefior 
doctor  has  desired  the  powder  for  him,  and  she  would 
sleep  when  she  should  watch." 

The  doctor  now  turned  and  placed  his  fingers  upon 
the  wrist  of  the  old  woman. 

"Pulse  as  steady  as  a  clock,  no  hysteria  here. 
What  was  the  matter,  Francesca?" 

The  old  woman  picked  up  the  fan  and  began  swaying 
it  slowly  back  and  forth  but  made  no  reply,  and  to 
all  their  questions  presented  such  an  imperturbable 
front  that  they  finally  desisted. 

El  Estranjero  watched  what  was  taking  place  as 
though  it  was  part  of  the  dream  which  had  seemed  so 
long  to  hold  him. 

Finally  as  the  doctor  bent  over  him  to  adjust  his 
pillow,  he  said,  "Where  am  I,  who  are  they,  how 
did  I  get  here?" 


ON  THE  TEAIL  21 

"You  have  been  ill,"  the  doctor  replied,  "and  you 
are  among  friends,  so  do  not  talk  now.  Here,  drink 
this,"  and  he  held  a  glass  to  his  lips.  "In  the  morn 
ing  we  will  have  some  explanations." 

When  the  morning  came,  however,  El  Estranjero 
was  again  delirious,  and  for  days  remained  uncon 
scious.  Then  he  became  rational  for  a  few  minutes 
at  a  time.  Finally  the  rational  periods  became  longer, 
and  in  a  little  more  than  a  week  he  slept  quietly  for 
hours  at  a  time  with  no  trace  of  delirium.  At  last 
the  fever  disappeared  completely,  and,  weak  and  spent, 
but  conscious,  El  Estranjero  looked  out  again  upon 
life.  But  some  subtle  thread  of  his  mind  seemed 
ravelled  and  broken  beyond  repair.  His  own  name 
and  names  of  persons  and  memories  of  places  he  had 
known  seemed  entirely  obliterated,  and  all  the  events 
of  his  past  life  were  as  much  a  sealed  book  to  him 
as  they  were  to  the  people  who  had  given  him  shelter. 

He  could  reason  perfectly  from  cause  to  effect,  could 
read  and  write,  but  he  was  as  though  he  had  been 
born  into  the  world  with  these  accomplishments.  Sin 
gularly  enough,  he  could  compute  mathematically, 
could  remember  the  multiplication  table,  and  could 
work  out  intricate  geometrical  problems.  To  Dr. 
Adams  his  case  was  one  of  the  utmost  interest,  and 
Holcomb  caused  inquiry  to  be  made  in  Los  Angeles, 
Santa  Barbara,  and  even  in  San  Francisco,  to  try  to 
discover  his  identity,  but  all  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  IV 


A   BETROTHAL 

As  the  patient's  strength  grew,  the  doctor  hoped 
his  memory  would  strengthen,  but  his  hope  was  vain. 
Certain  mechanical  actions,  such  as  swimming,  the 
loading  and  firing  of  a  gun,  harnessing  and  driving 
horses,  he  performed  with  great  skill,  but  even  his  own 
name  must,  it  seemed,  remain  forever  unknown  to  him'. 
In  health  El  Estranjero  was  a  handsome  man,  evidently 
two  or  three  years  under  thirty,  with  curling  brown 
hair  and  gray  eyes.  His  features  were  finely  formed, 
his  mouth  full  and  sensitive,  and  all  his  manners  and 
language  those  of  a  man  accustomed  to  cultivated  sur 
roundings. 

To  Alice  and  Philip  the  weeks  of -his  convalescence 
were  full  of  interest.  They  never  tired  of  telling  him 
the  story  of  how  black  Pete  had  dragged  him  across 
the  meadow,  of  the  many  times  they  had  crouched  by 
his  bedside  listening  to  his  ravings,  and  how  nothing 
coherent  or  sensible  was  ever  made  from  anything 
he  had  said  in  those  days  of  delirium. 

The  old  Indian  woman,  Francesca,  exhibited  a  pecu 
liar  affection  for  El  Estranjero.  It  was  she  who  had 
brought  him  from  the  jaws  of  death,  she  would  say, 
and  it  was  she  who  had  seen  his  soul  as  he  lay  in 
delirium.  Sometimes  as  she  would  speak  of  him  she 
crouched  upon  the  ground,  as  she  had  done  the  night 

[22] 


"The  hills  were  still  green." — Page  2, 


CHAPTER  IV 


A   BETROTHAL 

As  the  patient's  strength  grew,  the  doctor  hoped 
his  memory  would  strengthen,  but  his  hope  was  vain. 
Certain  mechanical  actions,  such  as  swimming,  the 
loading  and  firing  of  a  gun,  harnessing  and  driving 
horses,  he  performed  with  great  skill,  but  even  his  own 
name  must,  it  seemed,  remain  forever  unknown  to  him'. 
In  health  El  Estranjero  was  a  handsome  man,  evidently 
two  or  three  years  under  thirty,  with  curling  brown 
hair  and  gray  eyes.  His  features  were  finely  formed, 
his  mouth  full  and  sensitive,  and  all  his  manners  and 
language  those  of  a  man  accustomed  to  cultivated  sur 
roundings. 

To  Alice  and  Philip  the  weeks  of  .his  convalescence 
were  full  of  interest.  They  never  tired  of  telling  him 
the  story  of  how  black  Pete  had  dragged  him;  across 
the  meadow,  of  the  many  times  they  had  crouched  by 
his  bedside  listening  to  his  ravings,  and  how  nothing 
coherent  or  sensible  was  ever  made  from  anything 
he  had  said  in  those  days  of  delirium. 

The  old  Indian  woman,  Francesca,  exhibited  a  pecu 
liar  affection  for  El  Estranjero.  It  was  she  who  had 
brought  him  from  the  jaws  of  death,  she  would  say, 
and  it  was  she  who  had  seen  his  soul  as  he  lay  in 
delirium.  Sometimes  as  she  would  speak  of  him  she 
crouched  upon  the  ground,  as  she  had  done  the  night 

[22] 


'The  hills  were  still  green." — Page  23 


A  BETEOTHAL 


23 


he  first  regained  consciousness,  clasp  her  knees,  and 
rock  to  and  fro  softly  moaning,  but  not  a  word  would 
she  utter  concerning  her  strange  conduct.  To  Juan 
alone,  she  seemed  to  have  confided  her  trouble,  and 
only  Juan  had  power  to  soothe  and  silence  her  when 
these  moods  seized  her. 

The  California  winter,  that  most  delightful  season 
of  the  most  delightful  country  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  was  nearing  its  close.  The  hills  were  still 
green  and  the  poppies  were  bursting  into  flame  in  the 
valleys,  before  El  Estranjero  had  wholly  recovered  and 
again  took  his  place  in  the  Holcomb  household, 
sharing  in  the  labor  of  field  and  orchard.  The  time 
allotted  by  Dr.  Adams  for  his  vacation  had  been  long 
overstayed,  and  he  now  decided  to  return. 

Mrs.  Holcomb  said  nothing  to  Alice  concerning  the 
plan  of  sending  her  East  with  her  uncle,  until  a  few 
days  before  his  intended  departure. 

"Mother,"  stormed  the  child,  "I  don't  want  to  go, 
I  don't,  I  don't." 

"But,  Alice,"  the  mother  expostulated,  "I  can  not 
have  you  grow  up  in  ignorance.  You  will  soon  be  a 
young  lady,  and  you  will  blame  yourself,  but  you 
would  blame  me  most,  if  I  allowed  it." 

"Daddy,"  cried  the  little  girl,  "I  want  to  stay  with 
you  and  ride  my  pony  after  the  cattle.  How  many 
times  you  have  told  me  I  was  a  'good  fellow.'  " 

The  rancher  looked  pleadingly  at  his  wife,  but  she 
set  her  lips  and  shook  her  head.  His  face  hardened 
toward  the  little  girl.  He  knew  his  wife  was  rieht 


24  EL  ESTRANJERO 

and  that  the  child  would  be  grateful  later  for  what 
seemed  a  great  cruelty  now. 

Alice  saw  there  was  no  appeal  from  their  decision, 
and,  wildly  weeping,  she  rushed  from  the  house  and 
away  into  the  orchard,  where  she  threw  herself  face 
downward  on  the  ground  under  an  orange  tree  to 
sob  out  her  misery. 

It  was  here  that  El  Estranjero  found  her,  and  taking 
her  in  his  arms,  began  to  soothe  and  caress  her. 

Finally  her  tears  ceased  to  flow.  She  wound  her 
arms  about  his  neck. 

"I  love  you,  Estranjero,"  she  cried.  "I  love  you 
next  to  Daddy  better  than  anybody  in  the  world.  Stay 
here  till  I  come  back,  and  take  care  of  black  Pete  and 
my  pony,  and  I'll  study  hard  and  write  you  a  letter 
every  week.  Say,  El  Estranjero,  when  I  grow  up 
I've  got  to  marry — everybody  does  and  I'm  going  to 
marry  you.  I  can't  marry  Daddy,  for  he's  married 
already,  so  I'm  going  to  marry  you.  You'll  wait  till 
I'm  grown  up,  won't  you?" 

"All  right,  little  Alice,"  laughed  Estranjero,  "I'll 
wait,  and  I  guess  we  might  as  well  have  an  engage 
ment  ring."  He  pulled  a  horse-hair  ring  from  his 
pocket.  "See  here,  Alice,  I  made  this  from  the  hair 
of  your  pony's  mane.  I  meant  to  give  it  to  you  any 
way,  so  we'll  make  it  an  engagement  ring." 

"Well,  you  put  it  on,"  cried  the  little  girl,  "and  now 
you  must  put  your  arm  around  me  and  press  me  to 
your  breast  and  say,  'Darling,  I  will  be  true  to  my 
promise  forevermore.'  That's  the  way  the  man  did 


A  BETROTHAL  25 

in  the  book  Daddy  read  to  mother  one  day  when  I 
was  swinging  in  the  hammock  on  the  porch." 

El  Estranjero  bent  his  laughing  face  to  that  of 
the  little  girl,  drew  her  to  his  breast,  and  repeated  the 
words  she  had  dictated.  Next  day  Alice  Holcomb 
started  for  the  East  to  "go  to  school  till  she  was 
a  grown  lady."  Years  of  study,  travel  in  Europe, 
admiration  by  many  a  handsome  swain  were  before 
her,  and  Senor  El  Estranjero  soon  forgot  the  scene 
in  the  orchard;  but  in  a  little  orangewood  box  among 
her  treasures,  Alice  Holcomb  cherished  a  horsehair 
ring,  and  when  she  looked  at  it,  as  she  sometimes  did, 
she  saw  a  house  built  around  three  sides  of  a  square, 
set  in  a  paradise  of  greenery,  and  an  orange  tree 
bending  low  over  a  barefoot,  tear-stained  little  girl 
who  lifted  her  lips  to  meet  the  laughing  kiss  of  a  man 
whose  gray  eyes  and  curling  brown  hair  were  touched 
with  the  light  of  deathless  romance. 


CHAPTER  V 


AFTER   MANY   YEARS 

Twelve  years  have  passed  since  Alice  Holcomb  bade 
good-bye  to  her  California  home.  Her  parents  had 
planned  that  the  girl  should  return  each  alternate  sum 
mer,  but  in  the  spring  of  the  second  year  her  mother 
died,  and  her  father  thought  it  best  his  child  should 
remain  among  her  eastern  kindred.  Every  year  he 
made  a  pilgrimage  of  a  few  weeks  to  visit  his  daugh 
ter  in  the  old  Massachusetts  home  where  he  courted 
and  married  his  wife.  At  first  her  pleadings  to  return 
with  him  were  most  piteous,  but  with  the  fickleness 
of  children  she  soon  became  attached  to  her  new 
friends,  and  even  after  her  school  days  were  over, 
prolonged  her  absence,  and  now,  after  three  years 
in  Europe,  she  was  to  come  back  to  the  house  where 
she  was  born. 

In  those  years  the  pueblo  of  Elevado  had  grown  in 
size  and  importance.  The  houses  had  increased  in 
number,  and  the  green  of  the  orange  groves  was 
stretching  down  into  the  valley  and  threatening  to 
obliterate  the  cattle  ranges.  Irrigation  ditches  were 
beginning  to  scar  the  surface  of  the  plain,  and  the 
premonition  of  that  progress  which  afterward  con 
verted  this  region  into  the  fairest  orchard  land  on  the 

earth  was  already  felt. 
~ 


AFTER  MANY  YEARS 


27 


The  wooden  house  built  round  three  sides  of  a 
square  was  a  little  more  weather-beaten  where  its 
boards  peeped  through  the  embowering  greenery,  but 
was  otherwise  unchanged.  Juan  still  braided  his 
horsehair  riatas,  squatting  against  the  shady  side  of 
the  patio.  Francesca  still  made  her  inimitable  tamales. 
The  master,  too,  was  little  changed.  His  hair  was 
grizzled  and  his  face  saddened,  but  the  vigor  of  his 
sturdy  manhood  was  unabated. 

It  was  Senor  Estranjero  that  had  changed  the  most. 
His  figure  had  filled  and  straightened,  his  eyes  had 
grown  bright  and  his  step  elastic;  but  no  recollection 
of  his  past  life  ever  came  back  to  him.  Memory  and 
regret  are  the  sculptors  that  chisel  lines  upon  cheek 
and  brow  and  sprinkle  the  hair  with  gray.  With 
memories  dating  only  from  his  recovery  from  his 
wounds,  Estranjero  was  like  a  man  born  full-grown 
into  the  world.  With  no  brooding  thoughts  to  haunt 
him,  and  with  no  regrets  over  lost  opportunities  and 
youthful  follies,  his  life  in  this  ideal  pueblo  was  full 
of  pleasing  novelty,  and  if  a  shade  of  melancholy 
sometimes  visited  him,  as  he  remembered  no  child 
hood  or  youthful  friend  or  association,  he  felt  none 
of  the  pangs  of  their  absence. 

He  was  certainly  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood 
of  forty  years  of  age,  but  he  looked  fully  ten  years 
younger,  and  was  a  favorite  with  high  and  low.  As 
the  Holcomb  ranch  was  the  only  home  of  which  he 
had  conscious  knowledge,  he  stayed  on,  a  welcome 
friend  and  companion  to  its  master. 


28 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


Francesca's  curious  devotion  to  him  continued 
unabated.  She  would  sit  for  hours  at  his  feet  when 
her  work  was  done,  either  with  idle  hands  or  plaiting 
willows  for  her  baskets.  She  seemed  to  be  able  to 
sense  his  approach  from  a  distance  and  predict  it  to 
the  hour  when  he  was  absent  on  a  hunt  or  rodeo, 
and  once,  when  she  was  absent  at  a  tribal  fandango 
and  he  sustained  a  slight  accident,  she  walked  twenty 
miles  and  appeared  in  the  middle  of  the  night  at  his 
chamber  door  with  "Sefior  Estranjero  call,  I  come." 

It  was  evening,  and  El  Estranjero  and  the  master 
of  the  house  sat  smoking  upon  the  veranda.  Holcomb 
held  in  his  hand  a  letter  which  he  had  just  been  read 
ing  to  his  friend.  It  was  from  Alice,  the  last  she 
would  write  before  setting  her  face  homeward,  and 
naturally  the  two  men  were  chatting  of  her. 

"You'll  be  surprised  when  you  see  her.  How  do 
you  remember  her?" 

"I  think  of  her  as  a  freckle-faced,  long-limbed 
youngster  in  a  blue  calico  dress,"  smiled  Estranjero, 
"but  she  must  be  a  grown  woman  now." 

"She  was  four  and  twenty  last  May,"  responded 
her  father,  "and  pretty  well  grown,  too,  I  tell  you." 

There  was  silence,  broken  after  a  moment  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  Juan  from  around  the  corner  of 
the  house. 

"Senor  Holcomb,"  he  said,  standing  before  his 
master,  "the  lions  kill  the  sheep.  Every  night  it  is 
to  some  corral  they  go.  Estidullo  have  lost  half  a 
hundred,  Kendalls  six,  ten,"  holding  up  his  fingers  to 


AFTER  MANY  YEARS 


29 


emphasize  his  words,  "and  last  night,  Sefior,  it  is 
our  corral.  I  lay  among  the  sheep  and  watched.  It 
was  bright  as  day,  much  moon  shining.  I  slept  not 
the  whole  night,  but  before  my  very  eyes,  Sefior,  two 
sheep  were  carried  away  and  three  left  dead  in  the 
corral,  though,  Sefior,  I,  who  watch  like  the  fox,  see 
not  one  hair  of  the  devil  of  a  lion.  Madre  de  Dios! 
Sefior,  what  is  it  to  do?" 

"What  shall  we  do,  Estranjero?"  queried  Holcomb. f; 
"If  as  good  a  hunter  as  Juan  can't  spot  the  beast,  | 
I'm  afraid  I  won't  succeed." 

Estranjero  cogitated  a  few  minutes.  "Ah,  I 
it,"  he  said  at  last.  "Go  you,  Juan,  to  Estidullo  and' 
to  Kendall  and  all  others  in  the  pueblo  who  have 
sheep,  and  tell  them  to  house  them  safely  to-night,  so 
that  no  lion  can  reach  them.  Then  you  and  Manuel 
and  Pedro  all  bring  your  guns,  and  Mr.  Holcomb 
will  meet  you  at  the  cabin  a  hundred  yards  below  the 
big  sycamore  tree.  Take  with  you  all  the  hounds, 
and  keep  them  safe  and  quiet  in  the  house,  until  you 
hear  my  gun.  Then  loose  the  dogs  and  come  with  all 
speed  to  the  sycamore  tree,  for  I  will  stake  a  couple 
of  lambs  there,  hide  myself,  and  when  the  lion  comes 
to  get  the  lambs,  which  will  bleat  for  their  mothers, '^ 
we  will  get  him." 

"Make  haste,  Juan,"  Mr.  Holcomb  ordered,  "for  we  f 
must  all  be  there  before  the  moon  rises,  and  it  is  fully 
up  by  nine  o'clock." 

Juan  was  soon  galloping  bareback  down  the  road 
to  carry  the  warnings  to  the  sheep  owners  of  the 


30 


EL  ESTEANJEKO 


pueblo,  and  by  moonrise  all  the  preparations  were 
completed  and  El  Estranjero  in  hiding  within  rifle 
range  of  the  bleating  quarry. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  a  crouching  form 
glided  from  the  underbrush  and  sneaked  toward  the 
lambs.  Closely  following  were  two  half-grown  cubs, 
imitating  their  dam's  every  movement.  Estranjero 
waited  until  they  were  in  the  full  moonlight,  then 
taking  careful  aim  he  fired,  and  the  lioness  fell  pierced 
to  the  heart. 

The  cubs  made  off  into  the  thicket,  but  the  men 
and  dogs  from  the  cabin  had  now  reached  the  scene 
and  formed  a  circle  around  the  clump  of  bushes  in 
which  the  cubs  had  taken  shelter. 

One  of  the  oldest  and  most  daring  of  the  hounds 
ventured  in  to  attack  the  cubs,  but  a  powerful  blow 
from  an  unseen  enemy  sent  him  flying  through  the  air 
and  landed  him  with  a  broken  back  at  Juan's  feet. 
This  was  the  first  sign  that  had  been  given  the  hunt 
ers  of  the  presence  of  another  full-grown  lion  in  the 
thicket,  for  all  knew  that  it  would  have  been  impos 
sible  for  either  of  the  cubs  to  have  given  so  powerful 
a  blow.  They  knew  too  that  it  would  be  a  difficult  and 
dangerous  task  to  dislodge  him,  and  Estranjero 
now  ordered  the  Indians  to  leash  the  dogs,  and  hold 
them  in  readiness,  and,  with  his  rifle  cocked,  made 
his  way  into  the  thick  brush. 

There  was  a  moment  of  intense  suspense,  then  a 
shot,  and  the  daring  hunter  rushed  out  of  the  brush. 
The  dogfs  were  unleashed,  but  their  only  labor  was  to 


There  ivas  a  moment  of  intense  suspense." — Page  30 


AFTER  MANY  YEAES 


31 


despatch  the  snarling  cubs,  which  was  easily  accom 
plished.  Estranjero  had  seen  the  glaring  eyes  of  the 
lion  and,  firing  directly  between  them,  had  instantly1 
killed  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE    SENORITA 

As  the  train  bearing  Alice  Holcomb  sped  westward, 
she  was  like  one  in  a  dream.  Hours  at  a  time  she 
gazed  out  of  the  windows,  seeing  nothing  of  the 
stretches  of  prairie  or  desert  over  which  she  was  being 
hurried,  but  instead  there  were  visions  of  Old  World 
cities  and  palaces  through  which  she  had  so  lately 
wandered.  She  was  floating  on  the  blue  bosom  of 
Como;  she  was  watching  the  light  on  the  sails  of  the 
Neapolitan  fishing  boat;  she  was  listening  to  the 
gypsy  music  in  a  Hungarian  forest;  she  was  on  a 
white  Spanish  road,  and  the  tinkle  of  the  mule  bells 
came  faintly  out  of  the  magical  distance.  To  herself 
she  almost  seemed  a  disembodied  spirit,  whose  past 
was  blended  into  a  pleasing  panorama  of  beautiful 
sights  and  sounds,  all  that  was  ugly  and  unpleasant 
sifted  out  and  forgotten. 

It  was  not  until  she  came  in  sight  of  the  Rockies 
that  her  soul  seemed  to  awaken  and  her  emotions  thrill 
•ier. 

When  the  pine-clad  heights  of  the  Sierras  came  into 
view,  the  tears  suffused  her  eyes,  and  her  heart  cried 
out,  "Oh,  mine  own  land,  mine  own  land!  There  is 
nothing  in  all  the  world  so  dear."  Truly  the  Alps 
were  no  more  beautiful,  nor  the  Rhine  more  enchant 
ing  to  her  than  the  mountain  streams  of  her  own 
^r^32] 


"Nothing  in  all  th 


—Page  32 


THE  SENOBITA 


33 


land  tumbling  through  purple  gorges  shot  with 
golden  light. 

The  valley  of  the  Sacramento,  the  wide  plain  of  the 
great  San  Joaquin  Valley  and  then  San  Francisco 
straggling  and  unkempt  upon  its  hills  beside  the  blue 
water,  were  full  of  delight  to  her;  but  when  she  was 
at  last  upon  the  steamer,  her  face  turned  southward, 
a  great  impatience  possessed  her.  Now,  indeed, 
she  felt  she  was  really  going  home,  back  to  her 
own  people,  to  swarthy  Francesca  and  Juan,  to  dear 

lonely  Daddy  who  loved  her  so  much,  and  to No, 

he  had  forgotten  her.  For  years  he  had  not  written 
her  a  line,  for  years  she  had  been  able  to  smile  as 
she  looked  at  the  little  horsehair  ring.  And  she  kept 
it  still.  Oh,  yes,  she  kept  it,  just  as  a  memento  of 
her  childhood.  He  would  be  an  old  man  now,  griz 
zled  and  sad-faced  like  Daddy,  and  it  would  be 
amusing  to  compare  him  with  her  childish  picture  of 
him. 

She  remembered  how  one  of  her  grown  cousins 
had  visited  the  ranch  when  she  was  a  little  girl  and 
had  seemed  to  her  such  a  tall  and  magnificent  crea 
ture,  and  how  she  had  seen  him  again  a  year  or  two 
ago  and  found  to  her  great  astonishment  that  he  was 
actually  undersized  and  deadly  commonplace.  It  was 
always  so.  Yet,  somehow,  it  was  a  pity  to  dispel  the  if 
illusions  of  childhood,  was  it  not?  Alice  said  she  had?; 
no  illusions.  She  had  seen  society,  she  had  traveled,, 
she  had  read  books;  and  illusions  and  knowledge  arej 
poor  companions. 


34 


EL  ESTKANJEKO 


Her  home-coming  was  near  the  end  of  the  "dry 
season,"  that  time  in  Southern  California  when  the 
foothills  and  plains  are  clothed  in  every  tender  and 
beautiful  tint  of  faded  gold  and  dull  green.  It  is  that 
time  when  the  sage  gives  out  its  most  penetrating 
odor,  when  the  wild  anise  flings  forth  its  longest 
plumes,  when  the  chaparral  is  most  fragrant,  when  the 
light  that  is  "always  afternoon"  seems  to  brood  over 
every  purple  canon,  and  the  mountains  stand  out 
against  the  divine  blue  of  the  sky  with  only  here  and 
there  a  tiny  snow  cap  upon  the  highest  peaks. 

In  the  East  the  autumn  is  a  time  of  melancholy 
reflections.  The  falling  leaves  are  like  letters  of  the 
dead  in  which  one  reads  of  old  delights  and  hours  for 
ever  gone.  The  mist  over  the  hills  has  a  tinge  of 
sadness.  October  in  California  holds  not  only  the 
fruition  of  the  year,  but  the  promise  of  the  future. 
The  air  is  odorous  wine ;  the  light  is  a  feast  of  glory, 
the  days  are  like  the  heart  of  summer,  but  of  summer 
with  heat  that  warms  and  thrills,  but  never  enervates. 
The  nights  are  cool  and  starry,  and  sweet  with  health- 
giving  slumber. 

Alice's  heart  sang  a  song  of  joy,  as  by  her  father's 
side  she  rode  through  what  seemed  almost  a  land  of 
enchantment.  The  pueblo  of  Los  Angeles  with  its 
quaint  narrow  streets  and  adobe  buildings,  with  here 
and  there  more  pretentious  structures,  was  unlike  any 
thing  she  had  seen  in  her  Old  World  wanderings. 

They  tarried  there  a  few  days,  and  then  again  took 
horse  and  rode  through  the  lovely  valley  of  the  San 


THE  SENOEITA 


35 


Gabriel,  with  its  light-crowned  rim  of  foothills,  like 
wrinkled  purple  plush  in  a  jewel  box,  and  its  fair  rich 
plains,  upon  which  thousands  of  cattle  grazed  on  grass 
which  in  the  lowlands  and  meadows  is  forever  green. 
The  ever-varying  loveliness  marked  it  as  a  Paradise 
where  some  day  those  fortunate  souls  should  dwell  who 
can  wed  beauty  to  utility. 

On  through  the  fair  Pomona  Valley,  through  the 
"redlands,"  and  at  last  Elevado  with  its  vine-covered 
dwellings  and  its  orchards  came  into  view. 

Juan  had  ridden  with  his  master  to  attend  the 
Senorita  to  her  home;  it  was  he  who  hobbled  the 
horses  by  the  stream  when  they  halted  for  the  night, 
who  brought  wood  for  their  fire  and  water  for  their 
cooking. 

Juan  was  surely  the  happiest  Indian  in  all  the  land, 
for  had  not  the  Senorita  remembered  that  he  carried 
her  on  his  back  when  she  was  a  little  child,  and  had 
not  the  Senorita  brought  him  a  magnificent  silver 
watch,  and  so  taught  him  to  tell  the  time,  that  when 
he  looked  at  the  sun,  he  could  say,  "It  is  now  an  hour 
till  midday,1'  and  then  his  watch  would  say  "Si,  si." 
And  had  not  the  Senorita  given  him  a  silver  key  for 
that  watch,  which  put  in  a  little  hole  in  the  back  of 
it  and  twisted  would  make  a  most  curious  sound? 

And  the  Senorita  is  taller,  yes,  much  taller  than 
when  she  went  away,  and  her  hair  is  like  the  corn 
silk  and  her  eyes  blue,  and  her  skin,  it  is  that  milk- 
white  and  rosy,  that  the  sun  no  more  makes  spots 
upon  it,  and  the  Senorita  speaks  like  a  great  lady, 


36 


EL  ESTBANJEKO 


and  her  hands  are  white,  and  she  walks  straight  as  a 
pine  tree.  But  ah,  her  smile.  Well  let  Manuel  await 
that  smile,  and  even  the  picture  of  the  Virgin  in  the 
Mission  of  the  San  Gabriel  is  not  more  heavenly 
sweet  than  the  face  of  the  Senorita  when  she  smiles. 
All  this  Juan  related  to  Manuel  when  Alice  and 
her  father,  arrived  at  last  at  their  home,  were  ridding 
themselves  of  the  stains  of  travel. 


"Had  hunted  for  three  days." — Page  37 


CHAPTER  VII 

HOME  AGAIN 

With  what  varying  feelings  Alice  Holcomb  re- 
entered  her  old  home  can  be  imagined  by  those  who 
have  had  such  an  experience.  Here  everything  was 
unchanged,  but  she  missed  oddly  a  freckle-faced,  long- 
limbed  child,  that  was  herself,  and  she  missed  poign 
antly  the  sweet-faced  mother  who  was  the  center  of 
that  childish  life.  There  was  another  whom  she  missed, 
too,  El  Estranjero. 

He  had  thought  upon  the  daughter's  first  entry 
after  so  long  an  absence,  that  perhaps  father  and 
daughter  would  prefer  to  have  their  home  to  them 
selves,  and  with  the  delicacy  which  was  a  part  of  his 
nature,  had  withdrawn,  leaving  word  with  Francesca 
that  he,  Marco,  and  Pedro  would  go  to  the  moun 
tains  to  get  venison. 

They  had  hunted  and  fished  for  three  days  with 
varying  success,  and  had  killed  four  fine  deer  and  a 
medium-sized  black  bear.  They  had  cut  the  meat  of 
the  deer  into  strips  and  dried  it  in  the  sun,  hanging 
the  meat  upon  poles  resting  in  the  crotches  of  trees. 
The  bear  had  climbed  the  tree  after  the  venison,  and 
Juan  had  brought  him  down  with  his  rifle.  They 
had  camped  in  a  log  cabin,  once  the  home  of  a  pros- 
-  pector,  and  El  Estranjero  had  conducted  the  hunt 
purposely  in  a  leisurely  manner,  in  order  that  Alice 

[37] 


38 


EL  ESTRANJEKO 


should  have  been  two  or  three  days  at  home  before 
their  return. 

He  planned  an  equally  leisurely  return  and,  loading 
their  venison  upon  their  horses,  they  made  a  detour 
to  the  southwest  of  their  hunting  lodge  to  the  brow 
of  the  mountain  above  Dry  Lake.  From  this  point 
they  could  see  the  whole  upper  valley  and  even  far 
out  across  the  Pacific.  It  was  morning  when  they 
arrived  at  the  summit.  To  the  left  and  beyond  the 
bed  of  the  Santa  Ana  River,  lay  the  sloping  hills  of 
the  "redlands."  In  the  middle  foreground  was  stately 
Mount  Slover,  to  the  right,  the  pueblo  of  Elevado,  with 
its  flocks  and  herds,  its  orchards  of  oranges,  and  its 
vineyards.  Through  them  wound  the  shining  river, 
bordered  by  shimmering  poplars  and  graceful  willows 
and  by  meadows  delicately  brown  from  the  summer 
sun. 

Over  the  brow  of  the  hill  they  passed  The  Seven 
Oaks  and  Mountain  Home,  as  a  lonely  cabin  there  was 
called.  Through  the  "redlands,"  over  valley  and  river 
they  fared,  reaching  home  late  at  night  after  the 
dwellers  in  the  house  with  the  patio  were  deep  in 
slumber.  The  delay  in  Los  Angeles  had  frustrated 
El  Estranjero's  kindly  idea  concerning  the  return  of 
his  friends,  and  he  had  come  back  but  a  few  hours 

1  after  their  arrival. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  when  Alice,  dressed  in 
a  simple  blue  cotton  gown  with  a  white  linen  band  at 
throat,  and  with  her  golden  hair  gathered  in  a 

k  loose  coil  at  the  nape  of  her  neck,  issued  from  the 


HOME  AGAIN 


39 


patio.  Even  old  Francesca  was  not  yet  busied  with 
the  breakfast. 

It  was  the  girl's  fancy  to  see  her  home  alone  in  the 
early  morning.  The  night  before  she  had  wandered 
through  the  house  with  her  father,  but  both  were  tired, 
and  he  was  sad ;  now  she  would  see  the  haunts  she  had 
loved.  There  was  the  pepper  tree  where  Daddy  had 
made  her  a  seat  high  up  in  the  branches,  yes,  the  seat 
was  there  yet,  and  there,  too,  were  the  strips  of  wood 
nailed  upon  its  sloping  trunk.  She  would  climb  up 
later  with  her  book  and  sit  on  her  old  perch. 

There  was  the  rosebush,  too;  it  now  roofed  the 
entire  patio,  and  its  lower  stem  was  as  thick  as  her 
slender  waist.  No  such  roses  in  Provence,  she  was 
sure,  as  those  that  grew  here.  There  was  the  kettle, 
not  the  same,  for  kettles  are  not  immortal,  but  look 
ing  the  same,  yes,  the  very  kettle  in  which  Francesca 
used  to  boil  the  tamales. 

A  couple  of  hounds  rose  from  their  rest  upon  the 
veranda,  sniffed  inquiringly  about  her,  decided  that  she 
was  to  their  liking,  and  followed  as  she  wandered 
slowly  toward  the  orchard.  The  sun  was  not  yet  risen, 
but  a  faint  radiance  touched  the  east.  She  would 
climb  the  meadow  hill  to  watch  the  sunrise. 

She  made  a  fair  picture  as,  lithe  and  straight,  her 
smiling  red  lips  half-parted  over  her  white  teeth,  her 
cheeks  faintly  flushed  with  rose,  her  head  uplifted  as 
though  she  were  about  to  break  into  a  song  of  joy, 
she  walked  lightly  on,  followed  by  the  two  dogs. 

It  was  here,  yes,  it  was  in  this  very  spot,  that  she 


40 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


/ 


last  saw  El  Estranjero,  under  that  tree  by  the  cypress 
hedge;  but  how  tall  the  hedge  had  grown,  and  a  gate 
had  been  cut  through  it  to  the  meadow. 

At  that  instant  the  gate  opened.  The  hounds  made 
a  joyful  leap  toward  a  man  who  came  through  it  with 
a  bridle  over  his  arm.  His  sombrero  shaded  his  face, 
but  in  an  instant  the  hat  was  in  his  hand  and  he  was 
bowing  before  her. 

And  was  this  El  Estranjero,  this  man  with  the  light 
of  youth  in  his  gray  eyes,  with  the  joy  of  youth  in 
his  pose,  with  his  brown  curls  blowing  about  a 
forehead  white  and  unmarked  with  wrinkles?  The 
pictures  her  childish  fancy  had  made  of  him  were  not 
so  gallant  as  this.  These  thoughts  went  swiftly 
through  her  mind  as  she  offered  him  her  hand  with  a 
clear  ringing  laugh. 

"Senor  Estranjero,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  but  you 
have  spoiled  my  story  that  I  am  the  only  early  riser 
on  the  Holcomb  Ranch." 

"Can  this  be  Alice,"  Estranjero  said.  Then  for 
the  first  time  in  many  years  he  remembered  the  scene 
under  the  orange  tree,  the  horsehair  ring,  the  words 
the  little  tear-stained,  freckled-faced  girl  had  made 
him  repeat  and,  looking  into  the  eyes  of  the  beautiful 
woman  before  him,  a  strange  thrill  went  through  him. 
He  wondered  if  she  had  forgotten  it,  but  of  course 
she  had,  or  else  she  could  not  look  at  him  with  so 
unembarrassed  a  gaze. 

And  Alice  was  saying  to  herself : 

"He  has  forgotten  it,  and  I  am  glad.    I  should  die 


P 


HOME  AGAIN  41 

of  shame  if  he  knew  about  the  ring  being  kept  all 
these  years,  but  he  is  the  Prince.  I  am  glad  that  I 
know  him  now,  at  this  first  moment,  as  the  one  and 
only  one  that  my  heart  acknowledges.  Now  I  know 
why  the  men  who  have  admired  me  and  desired  me 
have  never  touched  a  single  chord  of  feeling.  Now  I 
know,  but  he  must  never  know  it,  for  he  does  not 


care." 


She  exchanged  a  few  laughing  words  with  him 
and  passsed  on  into  the  meadow,  and  Estranjero  from 
the  safe  shelter  of  the  hedge,  himself  unseen,  leaned 
against  the  tree  that  had  witnessed  his  vow  to  a  little 
child  long  ago,  and  watched  the  graceful  woman  pass ; 
watched  her  climb  the  hill  with  the  free  grace  of  the 
trained  walker;  watched  her  stand  with  her  face 
turned  eastward  like  some  fair  prophetess,  awaiting 
the  coming  of  the  god  of  day. 

He  was  a  mature  man  in  brain  and  body,  and  he 
felt  now  the  first  thrill  of  love  of  which  he  had  ever 
been  conscious,  and  with  it  was  no  taint  to  mar  the 
holiness  of  the  feeling.  It  was  the  thrill  of  unsullied 
youth  and  innocence,  in  the  presence  of  a  sweet  mys 
tery.  The  love  of  childhood  for  its  mate,  of  boy 
hood  for  the  girlish  ideal,  these  were  unknown  to 
Estranjero,  for,  if  they  had  ever  existed,  they  had 
been  blotted  out  when  memory  of  his  name,  place, 
station  and  experiences  had  been  wiped  off  the  tablet 
of  his  life,  and  with  the  power  of  a  man  and  the  pas 
sion  of  youth  he  could  grasp  and  drink  from  the 
pure  fountain  of  a  first  love. 


42 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


He  was  not  thinking  these  things.  He  was  not  think 
ing  at  all  as  he  watched  her  pass.  In  soul  he  was  with 
her,  treading  with  her  the  brown  field,  standing  with 
her  fronting  the  east,  and  hand  in  hand  was  watching 
with  her  the  sunrise  of  a  new  day. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    WARNING 

When  Alice  Holcomb  had  started  for  her  western 
home  her  cousin  Philip  had  been  her  companion  until 
they  reached  St.  Louis.  There  he  was  compelled  to 
remain  a  fortnight  to  transact  some  business  for  his 
father,  and  Alice,  impatient  of  the  delay,  had  traveled 
the  remaining  distance  to  San  Pedro  alone. 

In  a  few  days  after  her  arrival,  her  father  received 
a  letter  from  the  young  man  announcing  his  early 
coming,  but  as  he  proposed  buying  a  horse  at  San 
Pedro  to  ride  to  Elevado,  and  as  he  was  familiar  with 
the  way,  having  traveled  it  many  times  with  his  Uncle 
Holcomb,  he  would  need  no  one  from  the  ranch  to 
guide  him. 

In  the  years  Alice  had  been  in  school,  Philip  had 
spent  most  of  his  vacations  upon  his  uncle's  ranch, 
and  now  that  he  was  out  of  college,  his  father  was 
yielding  to  his  earnest  wish  and  was  allowing  him  to 
come  West  to  buy  a  ranch  and  grow  up  with  the 
country. 

Philip  spoke  the  patois  of  the  California  Indians;" 
as  well  as  the  pure  Spanish  of  the  descendants 
of  the  Conquistadores.  He  was  a  well-set-up  young 
man,  with  olive  skin  and  dark  eyes,  and  would  have 
almost  passed  for  a  Spaniard,  having  many  of  the 
physical  characteristics  of  the_  race.  He  could  ride, 


44 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


hunt,  and  swim,  was  well  known  to  the  people  of  the 
pueblo  and  knew  them  all,  and  Alice  looked  forward 
to  his  arrival  with  pleasure. 

She  had  busied  herself  in  those  days  with  making 
herself  acquainted  with  the  routine  of  the  household 
of  which  she  henceforth  was  to  be  active  mistress. 
Old  Francesca  had  two  years  before  been  grum- 
blingly  compelled  to  allow  Vera  to  share  her  labors 
in  the  kitchen,  and  now  that  the  young  Senorita  had 
come  Francesca  felt  her  authority  over  the  other 
servants  to  be  vastly  strengthened,  and  Alice  humored 
her  in  this  notion. 

The  days  went  by  swiftly,  full  of  pleasures  and  of 
duties.  There  were  visits  of  the  neighbors  to  be 
received  and  returned,  long  rides  with  her  father  when 
he  went  to  attend  to  the  cattle  or  upon  some  business 
of  the  ranch.  But  it  was  in  the  evening  hours  when 
the  stars  pulsed  overhead  and  the  fragrant  wind  blew 
softly  from  the  mountains  that  the  girl,  sitting  on  the 
veranda  with  her  father  and  El  Estranjero  while  they 
smoked  and  chatted,  felt  herself  most  keenly  alive  and 
that  a  mysterious  joy  throbbed  the  universe  of  which 
she  was  a  part. 

El  Estranjero  seldom  addressed  her,  but  sat  always 
where  he  could  see  the  lovely  profile,  the  slender 
hands  folded  loosely  in  her  lap,  the  contour  of  her 
,  lithe  body  as  she  sat  in  her  favorite  place  upon  the 
steps  of  the  patio  with  her  head  leaning  against  the 
rose-wreathed  veranda  pillar. 

>ke  little,  but  not  a  word  that  fell  from 


"A  mysterious  joy  throbbed  the  universe ." — Page  44 


THE  WARNING 


45 


the  lips  of  El  Estranjero  escaped  her.  His  voice  was 
low  and  mellow,  and  his  talk  of  the  impersonal 
sort  that  plainly  shows  an  entire  lack  of  egotism. 
Alice  had  heard  from  her  father  and  friends  various 
stories  of  encounters  with  Indians  and  wild  animals 
in  which  El  Estranjero  had  figured  since  becoming 
a  member  of  the  Holcomb  household,  but  he  himself 
never  mentioned  a  personal  exploit  or  experience. 

His  judgments  were  singularly  just  and  charitable, 
his  outlook  upon  life  that  of  an  optimist  who  sees  in 
every  man  his  brother.  His  love  for  nature  was  a 
passion  sincere  and  deep.  In  those  hours  while  she 
studied  him,  Alice  Holcomb  saw  that  this  was  a  man 
whose  singular  affliction — if  his  complete  loss  of 
memory  of  his  former  life  could  be  called  an  affliction 
— had  been  a  real  blessing,  and  whose  attitude  toward 
life  was  the  most  normal  of  any  that  she  had  ever 
known.  Unwarped  by  prejudices,  for  former  judg 
ments  he  had  none,  he  took  every  living  creature  and 
valued  it  by  the  light  of  a  mature  and  recent  experi 
ence,  with  no  conflicting  or  disturbing  comparisons  - 
to  distort  his  mental  vision.  His  handsome  features, 
noble  height,  his  voice,  his  manner,  his  mind  and  soul 
all  seemed  to  blend  into  one  delightful  personality. 

Alice  was  no  mere  school  girl;  she  was  a  mature 
woman,  who  had  seen  the  social  life  of  her  own  and 
other  lands,  had  been  sought  after  for  her  beauty  and 
charm,  had  been  beloved,  and  had  often  felt  a  secret 
rage  with  herself  that  her  own  nature  seemed  so  cold 
and  unresponsive.  Now,  however,  she  felt  that  at 


46 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


last  she  had  come  into  her  own  and  cherished  this  deep 
and  silent  passion  with  a  solemn  joy. 

Upon  the  evening  when  Philip's  arrival  was  being 
discussed  by  her  father  and  Estranjero,  she  turned 
toward  them  suddenly. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "when  will  you  have  the  fall 
rodeo?" 

"We  will  begin  next  week,  little  girl,  and  it  will  be 
great  fun  this  year,  and  we'll  have  all  the  cattlemen 
from  the  Tehachipis  to  the  Mexican  line.  Philip  will 
be  just  in  time  for  it,  and  you  will  see  one  of  the  sights 
of  your  life.  It  will  not  be  many  years  before  the 
cattle  business  in  this  region  will  be  given  up  entirely, 
for  land  where  oranges  can  be  grown,  as  they  can  be 
here  with  proper  irrigation,  will  soon  be  too  valuable 
for  cattle  range." 

"But,  Daddy,  you  surely  don't  think  we'll  ever 
have  here  a  thickly  settled  country  like  that  east  of 
the  Mississippi  River?" 

"Alice,  you'll  live  to  see  the  pueblo  of  Los  Angeles 
a  city  larger  than  St.  Louis  and  every  foot  of  the 
range  orchards  yellow  with  oranges.  But  we  won't 
borrow  trouble."  He  rose  as  he  spoke  and  strolled 
out  of  the  patio  toward  the  corrals. 

Estranjero  sat  very  still  watching  the  girl  with  her 
face  toward  the  pure  light  of  the  stars.  His  eyes 
lingered  upon  the  fair,  sensitive  features  and  a  mist 
came  before  him.  An  instant  and  it  passed  and  old 
Francesca  was  crouching  at  his  feet,  her  hands  clasp 
ing  her  knees,  and  rocking  back  and  forth. 


THE  WAENING 


47 


"Sefior  Estranjero,  Non !  Non !"  she  whispered,  and 
again,  "Non!  Non!"  in  a  very  passion  of  negation. 

His  face  grew  white  as  he  gazed  at  the  old  woman 
and  something  like  fear  seized  him.  What  was  the 
bond  between  him  and  this  wrinkled,  half-savage 
crone?  Did  she  have  that  sense  sometimes  attributed 
to  faithful  dogs  who  are  said  to  know  their  master's 
feelings,  or  was  there  knowledge  of  some  sort  behind 
the  mystery  of  her  actions? 

As  yet  Alice  had  not  noticed  Francesca,  for  the 
shadows  fell  darkest  where  Estranjero  sat;  but  now 
the  old  woman  began  to  moan  softly  and  to  mutter, 
"Oh,  the  little  child,  Mother  of  God,  the  little  child," 
and  Alice  turned  toward  her. 

"Juan,"  she  cried  sharply,  "Juan!"  The  Indian 
came  running  at  the  call  of  his  mistress,  and  seeing 
his  mother  rocking  back  and  forth  on  the  floor,  lifted 
her  and  led  her  away,  and  El  Estranjero,  with  a 
muttered  word  of  apology,  strode  to  the  corral,  roped 
and  saddled  his  horse,  and  rode  away  into  the  star 
light  night  as  he  was  wont  to  ride  when  something 
had  disturbed  him. 


5 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE    RODEO 

Elevado  was  all  astir  with  preparations  for  the  fall 
round-up.  This  year  the  branding  corrals  were  being 
built  in  the  meadows  just  outside  the  pueblo,  and  here 
the  cattle  from  the  thousands  of  acres  of  range  would 
be  herded,  the  beef  steers  cut  out  and  segregated  by 
their  owners,  and  the  cows  and  their  calves  corralled 
that  the  branding  of  the  young  might  be  properly  done 
and  the  marking  attended  to. 

There  would  be  dozens  of  chuck-wagons  and  scores 
of  cowboys,  the  most  skillful  in  the  land,  and  there 
would  be  the  usual  number  of  young  men  and  women 
from  the  surrounding  pueblos  to  whom  a  great  rodeo 
was  as  interesting  as  though  they  had  not  seen  it 
every  year  since  their  childhood.  There  would  be, 
too,  that  sprinkling  of  "tenderfeet"  that  had  always 
been  drawn  upon  such  occasions,  but  best  of  all  this 
year  there  was  to  be  a  dancing  pavilion  down  by  the 
river,  and  the  youth,  even  from  far-away  Los 
;;Angeles,  would  grace  the  occasion. 

The  labor  and  the  attendant  festivities  of  the  rodeo 
would  last  a  week,  and  to  accommodate  the  visitors, 
a  series  of  wickiups,  or  brush  houses  like  those  used 
the  California  Indians,  were  built  along  the  river. 

Long  tables,  too,  were  made  of  rough  lumber  nailed 
tree  to  tree  under  the  cottonwoods,  trenches  dug 
[48] 


,  • 


Now  it  would  be  a  lank  cowboy  on  his  wiry  little  horse." — Page  49 


THE  KODEO 


49 


for  the  cooking  of  the  meats,  corn  pounded  for  tor 
tillas,  tamales  boiled,  and  all  the  accessories  of  a  great 
California  fiesta  were  added  to  the  excitement  of  the 
rodeo. 

No  rodeo  was  complete  without  its  Indian  camp, 
and  to  the  Indians  the  mavericks,  or  calves  which 
were  motherless  and  whose  ownership  therefore  could 
not  be  determined,  were  given,  and  it  was  to  the 
Indian  servants  of  the  pueblo  that  the  barbecuing  and 
serving  of  the  meat  would  be  entrusted,  as  well  as  the 
preparation  of  the  chile  con  carne,  the  tortillas  and 
frijoles  and  other  celebrated  dishes  they  had  learned 
from  their  Spanish  masters  to  concoct. 

To  Alice  this  rodeo  was  a  Western  epic  written 
in  the  bellowing  of  the  herds,  the  thunder  of  the 
hoofs  of  the  horses,  and  the  swirling  of  riatas,  and  day 
after  day  she  rode  out  with  her  father,  Philip,  and 
El  Estranjero,  and  from  some  little  hill  safely  out  of 
the  path  of  the  drivers,  she  watched  the  scene  through 
the  mist  of  sunlit  dust. 

Rejoicing  always  in  the  sight  of  swift  motion,  to 
her  these  matchless  riders  of  the  plains  were  a  de 
light.  Now  it  would  be  a  lank  cowboy  on  his  wiry 
little  horse,  riding  like  a  demon  through  underbrush 
and  over  ditches  to  head  off  some  recalcitrant  steer ;  or 
it  would  be  half  a  dozen  sweat-begrimed  riders  urg 
ing  a  great  bunch  of  cattle  toward  the  corral,  then 
cutting  out  with  swift  descending  quirt  the  branded 
steers,  and  driving  in  with  equal  skill  cows  and 
calves. 


50 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


Not  seldom  the  pursued  turned  pursuer,  and  then 
it  was  a  pretty  race  if  some  maddened  old  cow  made 
after  her  tormentor.  Such  marvelous  riding,  such 
feats  with  the  lariat,  such  quick  work  with  the  mark 
ing  knife  and  branding  iron!  Surely  there  was  virile 
manhood  in  this  great  Southwest  that  could  face  the 
constant  danger  of  this  life  in  the  saddle,  and  Alice 
said  many  times  to  herself  as  she  watched  the  scene, 
"It  is  my  own  land  and  they  are  my  own  people. 
This  is  not  all  they  can  do,  and  many  of  those  men 
there  are  fit  to  be  President  of  the  United  States  or 
Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James.  Best  of  all,  they 
are  men,  and  the  West  is  in  them,  this  wide,  free, 
beautiful  land." 

Oftenest  her  eyes  dwelt  on  a  rider  on  a  coal-black 
horse,  whose  skillful  "throws,"  whose  feats  of  horse 
manship,  whose  grace  and  agility  drew  from  even  the 
taciturn  cowboys  many  admiring  comments, 

"I  tell  you,  Alice,  Estranjero's  a  dandy,"  said 
Philip,  as  he  sat  on  his  horse  beside  her.  "Look  at 
him  cutting  out  that  steer.  Did  you  ever  see  any 
thing  prettier?  And  look  at  him  rope  that  calf!  Not 
a  Spanish  vaquero  of  them  all  can  handle  a  riata 
better  than  he  does,  and  he's  modest,  too,  no  brag 
in  him." 

There  was  the  usual  racing,  cock-fighting,  ring- 
shooting,  quoit-pitching,  running,  and  wrestling,  with 
out  which  any  such  fiesta  would  have  been  incomplete, 
and  surely  no  beef  ever  tasted  so  ambrosial  as  did 


"Cutting  out  with  swift  descending  quirt.  f — Page  49 


THE  RODEO  51 

that  cooked  in  those  trenches  and  served  to  the  guests 
at  the  rodeo. 

Most  of  the  chuck-wagons  provided  for  their  own 
outfits,  but  the  cowboys  were  welcomed  at  the  tables 
down  by  the  river,  where  were  bright-eyed  senoritas 
in  their  picturesque  Spanish  dress,  and  the  rosy- 
complexioned  daughters  of  the  ranchers  dividing  the 
honors  with  them  among  even  the  smartly-dressed 
vaqueros  of  their  own  race;  even  swarthy-skinned 
Mexican  beauties  in  their  bright  red,  green,  and  yel 
low  calico  skirts  and  brilliant  bodices  looked  good  to 
these  men  who  often  were  for  months  at  a  time  cut 
off  from  the  enjoyment  of  the  society  of  women. 

To  Alice  the  color  and  gayety  of  the  days  of  this 
week  of  the  rodeo  seemed  worth  traveling  half  across 

e  world  to  enjoy.  The  peasant  festivals  of  Europe 
tame  indeed  beside  this  fiesta  of  her  own  people. 

As\  the  days  were  full  of  excitement,  the  nights 
were  lull  of  pleasure.  The  Spanish  musicians,  with 
their  guirars  and  mandolins,  played  the  music  for  the 
dance  from,  the  time  the  stars  began  to  twinkle  in 
the  sky  till  they  waned  before  the  light  of  the  sun. 
Alice  danced  and  feasted  and  flirted  with  the  rest, 
giving  herself  uK  to  the  pleasures  of  the  hour  with 
the  zest  that  charmed  her  neighbors,  many  of  whom 
had  privately  expressed  the  view  that  "Miss  Holcomb 
was  sure  to  be  'stuck  \p'  after  all  those  years  back 
East  and  her  long  travel\n  Europe." 

Philip  was  a  beau  amonV  the  belles  of  all  colors, 
at  the  fiesta.  He  dispensedNris  favors  with  such  a 


\< 


52  EL  ESTRANJEEO 

lavish  hand  and  widespread  generosity  that  all  the 
girls  claimed  him,  but  none  could  lay  a  special  claim, 
a  state  of  affairs  that  made  him  as  much  a  favorite 
with  the  swains  as  with  the  girls  themselves,  for  there 
could  be  no  jealousy  of  the  dashing  youth  who  smiled 
on  all  the  ladies  alike. 

El  Estranjero  did  not  dance,  but  one  night,  when 
Alice  sat  upon  a  bench  in  the  pavilion,  he  leaned  over 
her  as  he  stood  outside  and  said  softly,  "If  you  will 
come  with  me,  Miss  Alice,  I  will  show  you  one  of 
the  sights  of  the  fiesta  that  you  have  not  yet  seen." 

He  led  her  out  of  the  circle  of  light  thrown  by  the 
candles  fastened  to  the  poles  that  upheld  the  pavilion 
roof,  down  the  river,  far  beyond  the  barbecue  tables, 
to  a  point  where  the  stream  curved  sharply,  shutting 
out  the  view  of  the  wickiups,  and  before  them,  shel 
tered  from  view  of  the  merrymakers  by  screening 
willows,  was  the  camp  of  the  California  Indians. 

Before  a  small  fire  that  gave  sufficient  light  for 
them  to  see  one  another,  sat  eight  Indians,  in  two 
rows,  facing  one  another.  Surrounding  them  were 
interested  spectators  of  a  curious  game  which  they 
were  playing. 

Four  of  the  players  held  a  blanket  with  their 
teeth  in  such  a  manner  as  to  conceal  their  hands  from 
their  opponents.  A  sort  of  flexible  bracelet,  slipped 
from  the  wrist  of  one  of  the  players,  was  passed  from 
hand  to  hand.  At  the  same  time  the  players  made 
every  possible  motion  and  contortion  likely  to  mislead 
those  of  the  opposite  group  as  they  took  turns  in 


THE  RODEO 


53 


guessing  who  held  the  bracelet.  The  person  designated 
as  the  supposed  holder  must  fling  up  his  hands  the 
instant  his  name  was  called.  Thereupon  an  umpire, 
sitting  with  a  pile  of  sticks  before  him,  would  pass  a 
stick  to  the  successful  guesser,  to  be  redeemed  later 
with  money  or  valuables,  as  it  was  considered  as  a 
sort  of  note  of  hand. 

Behind  each  row  of  players  sat  four  squaws  chanting 
a  weird,  savage  song  as  encouragement  to  their  own 
band  of  players. 

'They  are  playing  Teon.'  They  keep  it  up  all 
night  and  for  a  week  at  a  time,"  whispered  El  Estran- 
jero  to  Alice,  "and  if  they  are  not  prevented,  will 

mble  away  their  money,  horses,  clothes,  blankets, 
anbseven  pledge  their  squaws  and  children." 

Tnfcy  watched  the  game  for  some  time,  and  then 
g. softly  W&  the  spot. 

"Shall  JN^ake  you  back  to  the  dancers  now?"  asked 
•-"*•  Estranjero. 

"No,"  replieck  Alice,  "I  think  I  will  go  home,  I 
have  danced  enough  for  one  week.  To-morrow  the 
fiesta  will  be  over.  XThe  rodeo  is  practically  ended, 
father  says,  and  then  ft^e  cattle  will  be  gathered  for 
the  markets  and  cut  fronTstfie  herds,  and  the  rest  left 
on  pasture.  Come,  let  us  walk  home — the 
lovely,  and  the  air  delightfully 

So,   under   the   light   of   the  Mars    El   Estranjero 
crossed  the  brown  fields  with  Alice^ 
as  they  came  to  some  rock  or  ditch,  m\hand  touched 
hers  as  he  helped  her  to  cross  it,  and 


'ig 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


contact  his  pulses  thrilled.  Her  dress  was  pale  rose- 
color,  and  as  the  moon  came  up  and  its  light  fell  upon 
her  lithe  figure  as  she  walked  with  the  free  grace  that 
was  so  characteristic  of  her,  to  El  Estranjero  she 
seemed  a  rose  nodding  upon  a  stem,  a  rose  just  opening, 
which  he  yearned  to  pluck  and  wear  upon  his  heart 
forever. 

Then  the  presumption  of  harboring  such  a  thought 
came  to  him.  She  was  young  and  he,  well,  he  too 
was  young.  He  smiled  at  the  thought,  for  though 
he  had  undoubtedly  lived  much  longer,  she  knew  more 
years  than  did  he.  But  she  had  traveled,  had  met 
handsome  and  distinguished  men.  Among  them  there 
might  be  one  to  whom  the  sweet  rose's  heart  turned 
with  all  its  fragrance. 

They  spoke  of  the  game  of  "Peon,"  of  the  rodeo, 
the  barbecue,  the  dance,  but  neither  by  word  nor  sign 
revealed  the  joy  each  felt  in  the  presence  of  the  other. 
No  look  or  pressure  of  the  hand  as  they  went  across 
that  moonlit  field  betrayed  that  in  their  souls  was  "the 
light  that  shone  o'er  Eden." 

At  last  they  reached  the  steps  to  the  veranda,  and 
Alice  sank  down  in  her  favorite  place.  The  house 
was  quiet.  The  Indian  servants  were  still  at  the  fiesta 
and  Holcomb,  too,  was  somewhere  among  the  guests 
of  the  pueblo.  Estranjero  leaned  against  the  opposite 
pillar  and  looked  down  upon  Alice. 

Suddenly  from  among  the  roses  overhead  a  mock 
ing  bird  began  to  trill.  Alice  rose  from  her  seat  and 
with  parted  lips  stood  listening  to  his  song.  It  swelled 


THE  RODEO  55 

louder  and  more  ecstatic.  Estranjero  advanced  a  step 
as  though  the  music  had  woven  a  spell  over  him. 
Irresistibly  Alice's  glance  sought  his  and  standing 
thus  they  looked  long  and  deeply  into  each  other's 
eyes.  Over  and  over  the  mocking  bird  trilled  a  soft, 
sweet  call.  "Alice,"  breathed  Estranjero,  "it  is  the 
call  of  my  soul  to  you.  Oh,  my  beloved,  can  you  not 
reply?" 

From  out  the  shadow  of  the  patio  old  Francesca 
flung  herself  between  them.  "Non,"  she  cried,  "Non, 
Sefior  Estranjero.  Oh,  my  senorita,  my  little  white 
dove !  It  grows  dark,  I  cannot  see.  Ah — he !  Ah — he ! 
there  is  sorrow  for  you." 

"Go,"  said  Alice  to  Estranjero,  who  stared  in  horror 
at  the  old  w7oman.  "It  is  just  one  of  her  seizures.  I 
will  take  her  to  her  quarters.  Go,  for  you  seem  to 
excite  her!" 

All  the  rest  of  that  night  Alice  Holcomb  knelt  by 
her  window,  her  heart  filled  with  perplexity,  and  at 
dawn  El  Estranjero  came  back  from  a  ride  that  left 
his  horse  fagged  for  many  days. 


CHAPTER    X 


THE  RAID 

The  rodeo  was  over,  the  wickiups  deserted,  the  bar 
becue  fires  dead.  Carriages  and  wagons  carrying  the 
guests  had  been  departing  since  early  morning,  and 
horseback  riders  with  many  a  curvet  had  disappeared 
in  the  dust,  and  only  a  few  chuck-wagons  here  and 
there,  surrounded  by  lounging  cowboys  and  with 
remudas  feeding  on  the  plain,  remained  when  evening 
fell.  These,  too,  would  be  gone  on  the  morrow,  but 
for  to-night  they  would  herd  their  bunches  and  move 
on  in  the  cool  of  the  morning. 

Supper  was  over  at  the  Holcomb  ranch.  Alice  lay 
in  a  hammock  swung  at  the  side  of  the  veranda  nearest 
the  great  rosebush.  Her  father  paced  back  and  forth, 
his  hands  behind  his  back,  his  fireless  pipe  held  between 
his  teeth. 

"I  can't  make  out  why  Pedro  and  Juan  are  so 
long  away,"  he  said  to  Estranjero,  who  sat  in  his 
usual  place,  but  to-night  with  downcast  gaze. 

Estranjero  was  suffering  the  torments  of  the  lover 
who,  though  declared,  is  unanswered.  Alice  had 
avoided  him  all  day,  had  not  once  lifted  her  eyes  to 
his,  and  had  addressed  no  word  to  him  but  mono 
syllabic  commonplaces.  Her  face  was  colorless,  and 
her  manner  cold.  Had  his  presumption  offended  her? 


7/<?  Indians  had  annoyed  the  ranchers." — Page  60 


THE  KAID 


57 


Oh,  for  an  hour  alone  with  her  that  he  might  pour  out 
his  heart! 

Had  he  been  able  to  look  into  her  soul,  he  would 
have  known  that  the  outward  coldness  covered  emo 
tions  so  powerful  that  to  hold  them  in  check  required 
all  her  self-control.  It  was  this  that  gave  her  an  air 
of  haughtiness.  In  the  long  night  hours  when  she 
knelt  at  her  window,  she  had  gone  over  in  her  mind 
again  and  again  the  scene  upon  the  veranda  and  the 
avowal  that  had  been  so  strangely  interrupted  by 
Francesca.  What  sorrow  did  her  old  nurse  see 
hovering  over  her?  Let  it  come,  if  only  Love  was 
there  with  his  divine  breath  of  healing.  Yes,  she 
could  face  sorrow,  if  only  this  beauty  that  life  had 
shown  her  did  not  pass  away. 

But  this  man  was  El  Estranjero,  a  stranger,  and 
one  whose  past  life  might  hold  its  claims  against  him. 
Was  there  even  now  some  hand  reached  forth  to  tear 
him  away  from  the  peace  of  the  pastoral  life  that  he 
loved  and  from  her  who  loved  him  so  deeply? 

This  was  the  thought  her  mind  reiterated  as  she 
lay  in  the  hammock,  her  eyes  following  her  father's 
restless  pacing. 

Finally  she  turned  her  gaze  idly  toward  the  moun 
tain  where  a  faint  flush  upon  the  sky  was  growing 
brighter  and  brighter. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "what  is  that?" 

"Oh,  that's  a  brush  fire  at  the  mill,  I  suppose,"  was 
the  answer.  "The  millmen  burn  the  refuse  once  in 
a  while,  but  not  usually  at  this  time  of  the  year  when 


58 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


the  underbrush  is  so  dry.  It  may  be  a  camp  fire,  but 
that's  hardly  likely." 

They  all  watched  the  glow  as  it  died  and  rose  again 
and  flamed  and  sank.  It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when 
Holcomb  resumed  his  restless  pacing. 

"I  sent  Juan  and  Pedro  to  round  up  a  bunch  of 
steers  that  we  couldn't  find  when  we  brought  in  the 
herd  three  days  ago.  Kendall  said  he  saw  them  a 
couple  of  weeks  ago  feeding  in  a  cienega  on  the  edge 
of  the  desert.  Juan  and  Pedro  knew  the  place,  and 
they  ought  to  have  been  back  before  dark  to-night 
at  the  very  latest.  I  don't  know  why  I  feel  so  uneasy, 
but  I  have  a  sort  of  premonition  that  something  has 
happened." 

"Hark!"  cried  Alice,  "I  hear  something." 

Holcomb  listened  and  sure  enough  there  was  the 
thud  of  the  hoofs  of  galloping  horses,  and  the  next 
instant  Juan  and  Pedro  came  into  view  in  the  star 
light,  riding  like  the  wind,  and  drew  up  their  panting 
and  foam-covered  horses  at  the  veranda  steps. 

Juan  threw  his  reins  over  the  horse's  neck  and 
hurried  forward,  but  Pedro  got  stiffly  and  lamely  down 
and  almost  fell  across  the  steps. 

The  group  upon  the  porch  had  started  forward. 
Here  was  something  unusual,  and  Pedro!  He  was 
hurt!  A  soiled  rag  was  bound  across  his  forehead 
and  his  face  was  covered  with  dried  and  clotted  blood, 
while  one  arm  hung  limply  by  his  side. 

"Lights    here!"    roared    Holcomb,    and    Vera    and 


THE  EAID  59 

Francesca  hurried  from  the  kitchen  at  the  call,  both 
carrying  flickering  candles. 

"Sefior,"  cried  the  usually  phlegmatic  Juan. 
"Hasten,  Sefior,  for  the  love  of  God!  The  Indians! 
They  have  killed  the  men  at  the  mill  and  set  the  mill 
on  fire.  Pedro  and  I  saw  the  fire,  and  as  we  were 
nearly  there  with  the  cattle,  we  hurried  a  little.  From 
an  open  spot  we  saw  Indians  making  their  dance 
around  it,  so  we  hid  our  horses  in  the  woods  and  crept 
up  like  foxes.  We  knew  there  were  four  men  there, 
and  we  saw  them  all  dead  and  scalped,  lying  one  here 
and  one  there. 

"All  this  we  saw,  Pedro  and  I,  and  were  creeping 
back  to  the  horses,  like  snakes,  upon  the  belly,  when 
Pedro  fell  over  an  Indian,  without  doubt  one  who  had 
been  sent  to  watch.  Quick  as  a  cat  Pedro  grasped  his 
throat  with  both  hands,  so  that  he  might  not  call  out, 
and  before  I  could  stab  him,  he  cut  Pedro  here  upon 
the  head  and  arm.  It  took  him  not  long  to  die,  for 
I  stabbed  again  and  again.  Then  we  got  to  horse  and 
here  we  are." 

All  this  Juan  related  in  the  Indian  patois,  and  said 
further,  "Sefior,  they  are  coming  to  attack  the  pueblo. 
They  know  the  rodeo  is  ended  and  many  cattle  are 
near,  and  they  think  to  surprise  the  pueblo,  drive  many  A 
cattle  off  into  the  mountains,  and  be  away  before 
they  can  be  caught.  They  know  not  that  the  cow 
boys  are  not  yet  all  gone,  or  they  would  not  dare." 

Philip  had  come  up  while  Juan  was  telling  his  tale, 
and  El  Estranjero  was  thinking  swiftly. 


~^sg 


60 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


"We  must  raise  the  alarm  at  once,"  he  said. 

Holcomb  turned  to  Estranjero.  "Take  Juan  to 
guide  you,  and  Manuel,  Marco,  and  Jose,"  he  said. 
"Go  back  toward  the  mill  and  ambush  them  where 
the  trail  turns  toward  the  pueblo.  When  we  hear  you 
begin  firing,  we  will  be  ready  for  them. 

"You,  Philip,  take  the  roan,  ride  to  every  cow- 
camp  out  there  on  the  prairie,  tell  them  what's  up  and 
ask  them  to  bring  their  remudas  and  wagons  in,  and  all 
their  men  to  help  us.  I  will  go  to  the  Plaza  and  light 
the  bonfire  that  is  always  ready  there  as  a  signal  of 
danger,  and  you,  Alice,  and  the  women  will  be  safe 
here  unless  the  pueblo  should  be  taken,  and  it  won't 
be,  now  that  their  surprise  is  going  to  be  a  failure." 

In  half  an  hour's  time  every  man  in  the  pueblo  and 
the  thirty  cowboys  that  were  with  the  outfits  were 
busy  throwing  up  a  crescent-shaped  breastwork  in 
front  of  the  chapel,  one  end  of  the  defense  resting 
against  the  high  adobe  wall  about  its  patio,  and  the 
other  against  an  adobe-walled  corral  a  short  distance 
away.  The  operations  were  conducted  with  the  utmost 
?  silence  and  haste.  All  the  lights  in  the  pueblo  were 
extinguished,  as  though  the  inhabitants  were  wrapped 
in  slumber. 

It  was  not  merely  for  defense  that  these  prepara 
tions  were  made.  Whether  the  force  should  be  large 
or  small,  the  settlers  determined  to  give  the  Indians  a 
well-merited  lesson. 

For  years  the  Indians  of  the  Pah-Ute  and  Chima- 
hueva  tribes  had  annoyed  the  ranchers  of  the  neigh- 


Indians  stampeding  horses 


THE  EAID  61 

borhood  by  their  thieving  raids,  running  off  horses 
and  cattle  and  driving  them  into  the  fastnesses  of 
Nevada.  Now  and  then  they  would  murder  some 
isolated  family,  and  their  latest  crime  called  for 
immediate  punishment. 

It  was  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the 
force  within  the  pueblo,  lying  upon  its  arms  behind 
the  breastworks,  finally  heard  the  distant  crack  of  a 
rifle,  and  knew  that  the  enemy  was  approaching. 
The  Indians  evidently  thought  that  the  firing  of  this 
gun  was  by  some  lone  ranchman  who  had  secreted 
himself  upon  seeing  their  approach,  and  they  hurried 
on  to  surprise  the  pueblo  before  it  should  take  alarm. 

Estranjero,  however,  had  so  placed  his  men  that 
after  the  initial  shot,  there  was  no  more  firing  until 
^5  the  savages  were  within  range  of  the  guns  of  the 
>  defenders,  then  the  five  men  all  attacked  the  enemy 
rom  the  rear  while  the  defenders  attacked  them  from 
[  the  front. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  Indians  were  completely  routed, 
;,  and  when  the  day  dawned  there  lay  a  hundred  dead 
Indians  before  the  earthworks,  and  later  on  a  dozen 
more  were  found  where  they  had  died  of  their  wounds, 
having  been  abandoned.  Probably  those  less  seriously 
injured  were  carried  away  by  their  comrades,  as  is  the 
Indian  custom,  for  sometimes  they  not  only  carry  off 
their  wounded,  but  as  many  of  their  dead  as  possible, 
in  order  to  conceal  their  losses  from  their  foes. 

That  this  was  a  large  band  and  must  be  followed 
and  exterminated  if  the  pueblo  was  to  enjoy  peace, 


62 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


•*& 


was  at  once  apparent.  As  El  Estranjero,  Philip 
and  Holcomb  sat  at  table  the  next  morning  at  breakfast, 
the  gravity  of  the  situation  was  discussed,  and  it  was 
decided  that  ten  well  armed  men  would  be  able  to 
cope  with  the  Indians  on  a  still  hunt,  for  the  savages 
had  only  poor  and  antiquated  rifles,  tomahawks,  and 
bows  and  arrows,  and  depended  largely  for  success 
on  surprises  such  as  that  at  the  mill  and  such  as  they 
had  evidently  planned  for  the  pueblo. 

Juan,  as  the  best  guide  in  the  whole  country  and 
the  cleverest  trailer,  would  be  one  that  must  go.  As  a 
"friendly,"  associated  with  the  whites  all  his  life,  he 
had  no  more  compunction  against  slaying  a  hostile 
than  he  would  have  had  at  killing  a  rattlesnake,  and 
1'fjj  it  was  the  same  with  the  other  "friendlies"  of  this  and 
'''  |  surrounding  pueblos.  The  fidelity  of  these  California 
|  Indians  to  their  Spanish  masters,  and  later  to  the 
Gringo  ranchers  who  superseded  them,  was  most  sin 
cere,  and  was  no  more  to  be  suspected  than  that  of 
any  other  dweller  in  the  pueblos. 

Old  Manuel  and  Estranjero,  with  Juan  and  Philip, 
were  the  volunteers  from  the  Holcomb  ranch,  and  six 
other  equally  skillful  woodsmen  were  selected  to  go 
with  them,  but  as  our  interests  are  with  the  dwellers, 
guests,  and  servants  of  the  house  built  about  three 
sides  of  a  square,  we  will  follow  their  fortunes  and 
leave  history  to  relate  the  exploits  of  the  others. 

f£ 


^>^ 


CHAPTER  XI 

PHILIP 

Philip  Allen  had  been  but  a  week  at  Elevado,  and 
in  that  time  he  had  "experienced  more  thrills,"  to  use 
his  own  expression,  than  would  have  been  his  lot  in 
months  or  perhaps  years  of  the  placid  life  of  the 
Massachusetts  village  where  he  was  born. 

He  was   speaking  of  this   as   he   lounged   on   the 
ground  in  the  patio  near  Alice,  who,  heavy-eyed  and  L 
pallid  from  the  excitement  and  conflict  of  emotions  > 
through  which  she  had  passed  in  the  last  few  days,  '? 
was  sitting  on  a  low  bench  listening  to  his  enthusiastic  " 
account  of  the  night's  battle.     In  half  an  hour  he  was 
to  start  for  the  mountains  on  the  trail  of  the  hostiles, 
and  was  now  waiting  until   Manuel  and  the   other:" 
servants  should  have  the  canteens  and  water  casks  in 
readiness.     They  intended  to  follow  the  foe  into  the 
desert,  if  necessary,  and  would  bear  with  them  thesej? 
empty  receptacles,  that  they  might  fill  them  from  some!' 
mountain  stream  if  they  found  it  advisable  to  cross;! 
the  desert. 

The  general  direction  of  the  trail  was  well  estab-3T 
lished,  and  the  only  points  at  which  it  could  cross  the 
desert  was  in  the  line  of  the  water-holes,  every  one 
of  which  was  known  to  Juan,  and  of  course  to  the^2> 
hostiles.      It   was   decided  that    Manuel   and    Marco  " 
should  proceed  with  their  water  vessels  to  a  chosen 

[63] 


64 


EL  EiSTRANJEBO 


point,  making  a  detour  by  a  trail  that  the  savages 
were  not  likely  to  pass,  one  man  to  act  as  scout  and 
the  other  as  convoy. 

Philip  was  telling  Alice  these  things  and,  as  he  lay 
at  her  feet,  his  handsome,  eager  face  raised  to  hers, 
the  two  made  a  picture  which  El  Estranjero,  then 
approaching  from  the  meadow  through  the  gate  in 
the  cypress  hedge,  noticed  with  a  pang. 

"What  was  it  that  Philip  was  saying  so  eagerly  to 
her?"  he  thought.  "Was  he  telling  her  that  he  was 
going  into  danger,  that  her  image  would  be  with  him 
in  the  dim  fastness  of  the  forest,  that  she  was  the  star 
of  his  hope?" 

What  he  was  actually  saying  was: 

"Well,  now,  Chummie,"  her  pet  name  with  him  from 
childhood,  for  they  had  grown  up  together  like  a  sister 
and  brother,  "I  must  be  stirring  around  lively." 
And  he  rose  and  she  stood  beside  him  and  put  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Do  take  care  of  yourself,  Phil,  you're  such  a  rash 
boy.  Auntie  would  be  crazy  with  anxiety  if  she  knew 
you  were  going  on  such  a  dangerous  trip." 

"Well,  mother  doesn't  know,  and  see  that  you  don't 
J ///( write  her  about  it  till  I  come  back.     Now  kiss  me 
good-bye,   Chummie,   and  I'll  bring  you   a  Pah-Ute 
scalp  to  hang  on  your  lodge  pole." 

"You  bring  back  your  own  scalp,"  she  said,  with  a 
^playful  tweak  of  his  waving  forelock  as  she  kissed 
him,  and  he  turned  away. 

El  Estranjero  was  too  far  distant  to  hear  the  words 


PHILIP  65 

or  see  the  expression  upon  the  two  faces.  What  he 
did  see  was  the  leaning  forward  of  the  graceful  body 
of  the  woman  he  loved  toward  the  handsome  Philip, 
and  the  touching  of  their  lips  in  that  farewell  kiss. 

Unseen  by  either,  he  made  his  way  into  the  house 
from  the  opposite  side,  secured  his  gun  and  canteen, 
and  with  a  heart  pulsing  with  pain  that  whitened  his 
face  to  the  very  lips,  joined  Juan,  who,  with  two  pack 
horses  laden  with  the  rations  of  the  little  party,  waited 
for  him  at  the  Plaza. 

Behind  him  he  heard  Philip  call,  but  he  did  not 
^turn  his  head.  Thinking  he  had  not  made  himself 
"Ji|  heard,  Philip  sprinted  to  walk  by  his  side,  but  as 
El  Estranjero  was  never  loquacious  and  Philip  was 
ever  talkative,  he  did  not  notice  that  his  companion 
was  unusually  abstracted. 

As  they  strode  along,  El  Estranjero  took  a  mental 
inventory  of  Philip. 

"Yes,"  he  said  to  himself,  "he  is  a  handsome  lad, 
and  a  frank  and  honorable  one.  He  has  wealth,  edu 
cation,  youth,  and  I  lack  all  these.  He  is  her  own 
cousin,  but  cousins  often  marry  very  happily.  She 
has  chosen  him,  that  is  enough  for  me.  I  will  be  man 
enough  to  bear  it,  and  I  will  watch  over  him  as  though 
he  were  my  brother.  I  will  give  my  life  if  need  be  for 
him.  She  shall  be  happy." 

Yet  even  these  generous  resolves  did  not  serve  to 
allay  his  anguish.  He  loved  and  was  unloved.  His 
heart,  for  the  first  time  of  which  he  was 


66 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


had  sent  out  its  call  to  a  mate,  and  must  brood  forever 
above  an  empty  nest. 

"Francesca  was  wrong,"  he  thought.  "Sefiorita, 
little  white  dove,  there  is  sorrow,  but  it  is  for  the 
stranger,  and  he  thanks  God  he  can  bear  it  if  only  you 
are  happy/' 

And  Alice  from  her  chamber  window  saw  the 
green  orchard  swallow  up  the  forms  of  the  two  men. 

"He  is  gone,  and  without  a  word  for  me.  It  was 
the  moonlight,  and  the  song  of  the  mocking  bird,  and 
my  deliberate  choosing  to  walk  alone  with  him  across 
the  fields  that  stirred  his  momentary  passion.  He  is 
gone  to  danger,  and  maybe  to  death,  without  one  word 
to  me,  and  I  love  him.  Oh,  El  Estranjero,"  her  heart 
'  cried  out  in  wordless  sorrow,  "Prince  whose  very 
glance  awoke  my  dreaming  spirit.  Francesca  was 
,  there  is  sorrow  for  me." 


CHAPTER  XII 


A  WOODLAND  DRAMA 

El  Estranjero  was  chosen  by  his  comrades  to  com 
mand  the  expedition,  and  two  hours  before  noon  the 
start  was  made.  The  trail  taken  by  the  savages  in 
their  retreat  was  found  to  lead  in  the  direction  of 
Lytle  Creek.  Together  the  whole  party  followed  the 
trail  to  a  beautiful  spot  on  the  banks  of  the  stream 
and  there  halted  for  a  council. 

El  Estranjero  then  made  known  his  plan.  He  and 
Juan  would  scout  far  ahead  of  the  party  along  the 
main  trail.  Philip  and  another  would  act  as  rear 
guard,  to  prevent  surprise  from  that  quarter  in  case 
stragglers  from  the  main  band  should  themselves  be 
scouts.  The  other  six  men  were  to  guard  the 
ammunition  and  rations  and  to  be  alert  to  attack  if 
a  foe  should  be  encountered. 

This  little  force  of  white  men  seems  ridiculously 
small  when  compared  to  the  large   band    of    Indians" 
they  were  pursuing.    But  it  must  be  remembered 
the  enemy  was  poorly  equipped  with  arms,  and  that  1 
their  marksmanship  was  even  poorer  than  their  equip 
ment,  except,  of  course,  with  their  own  weapon,  the 
bow,  and  that  was  a  toy  that  could  only  wound  at 
close    range.      The    guns    possessed    by    the    savages 
were  of  such  antiquated  pattern  and  inferior  range, 
and  the  skilled  sharpshooters  in  this  little  party  felt 

[67] 


68 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


that  it  would  be  accidental  if  any  one  should  be 
brought  down  by  them. 

The  Indians  were  also  much  encumbered  by  their 
wounded,  and  it  was  Estranjero's  purpose  to  come  up 
with  them  in  flank  and  then  the  marksmen  could  pick 
them  off  one  by  one  in  that  bush  warfare  for  which 
they  were  so  justly  celebrated. 

As  he  and  Juan  were  to  proceed  with  so  much  more 
rapidity  than  the  main  body,  a  camping  spot  familiar 
to  all  was  agreed  upon  and  they  set  forth.  As  they 
crept  rapidly  forward,  noting  every  "sign"  by  the 
way,  his  mind  settled  into  a  mood  of  stern  endurance 
for  whatever  fate  might  have  in  store  for  him.  As 
he  had  no  past,  he  now  seemed  to  have  no  future  with 
any  promise  of  joy.  The  present  with  its  duty  must 
therefore  absorb  him. 

About  an  hour  after  midday,  he  and  Juan  came  to  a 
point  on  the  trail,  at  the  left  of  which  was  a  steep 
knoll,  unencumbered  with  brush,  which  gave  a  wide 
outlook  over  the  surrounding  country. 

"Senor,"  said  the  Indian  in  a  low  voice,  "I  will 
creep  up  to  that  ridge  yonder  and  lying  behind  that 
big  rock  will  see  what  I  can.  Perhaps  the  Utes  are 
now  so  far  in  the  mountains  that  they  think  it  safe  to 
make  camp  fire." 

"Go,"  answered  El  Estranjero,  "I  will  wait  for  you 
over  here." 

Crouching  so  that  his  head  might  not  be  above  the 
underbrush,  Juan  began  the  ascent.  Scarcely  had  he 
roceeded  a  hundred  feet  from  their  cover  before 


A  WOODLAND  DKAMA 


69 


Estranjero  heard  the  sharp  twang  of  a  bowstring, 
and  saw  Juan  clap  his  hand  to  his  shoulder  and 
spring  behind  a  boulder.  In  an  instant,  locating  the 
foe  by  the  sound  of  the  bowstring,  Estranjero  sprang 
upon  him  with  clubbed  rifle  and  struck  him  to  the 
earth  before  he  could  fire  another  arrow  or  make  an 
outcry. 

Juan  swiftly  crept  back  to  where  he  stood  looking 
down  upon  the  unconscious  enemy,  and  with  a  stroke 
of  his  knife  despatched  him. 

They  made  a  quick  and  careful  examination  of  the 
brush  to  assure  themselves  that  there  were  no  more 
Indians  near  and  then  proceeded  with  even  greater 
caution,  that  they  might  not  stumble  over  some  stray 
buck  out  hunting  for  venison  for  the  band. 

While  an  examination  of  Juan's  wounded  shoulder 
showed  that  his  hurt  was  not  serious,  he  nevertheless 
lost  such  a  quantity  of  blood  before  Estranjero  could 
fashion  a  rude  bandage  for  him  from  his  neckerchief, 
that  in  a  few  minutes  it  became  apparent  that  the 
Indian  must  rest  quietly  for  a  while  until  he  had 
recovered  his  strength. 

Estranjero  then  determined  to  place  him  at  a  point 
near  the  trail  over  which  the  main  body  should  pass, 

that  he  might  rejoin  them  as  they  came  along,  and 
he  proceeded  upon  his  scout. 

Juan  had  lain  in  the  brush  about  half  an  hour  and 
had  dropped  into  a  doze  when  he  was  awakened  by  a 
low  snarling  and  growling  less  than  a  hundred  feet 
y  As  the  wind  was  blowing  from  that  quarter 


70 


EL  ESTRANJEEO 


and  the  animal,  whatever  it  was,  would  not  be  likely 
to  get  his  scent,  the  Indian  cautiously  wriggled  to  a 
place  where  he  could  see  what  was  transpiring. 

The  body  of  a  deer,  with  an  arrow  sticking  over  its 
heart,  showing  that  it  had  been  wounded,  probably  by 
the  Indian  he  had  killed,  and  had  run  thus  far  before 
bleeding  to  death,  lay  at  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  A 
huge  mountain  lion,  whose  every  muscle  stood  out 
rigidly  against  his  tawny  hide,  was  rapidly  devouring 
the  carcass.  Toward  the  lion  ambled  a  big  black  bear, 
snarling  as  if  to  announce  that  he  was  determined 
to  partake  of  the  banquet.  The  lion,  without  ceasing 
from  its  gorging,  snarled  a  dissent.  The  bear,  with  a 
terrific  roar,  sprang  upon  the  carcass,  cuffing  the  lion 
with  both  fore  paws  alternately,  while  he  hung  to  the 
venison  with  his  strong  jaws. 

The  paws  of  the  lion  with  their  long  fearsome 
'  claws  and  frightful  strength  were  used  with  but  little 
effect  as  the  two  great  animals  pulled  at  the  carcass. 
Soon  they  were  rolling  over  and  over,  snarling  and 
growling  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

While  the  fight  was  at  its  height  two  coyotes 
sneaked  out  of  the  brush,  ran  back  and  forth, 
occasionally  putting  their  heads  together,  as  if  to 
comment  upon  the  spectacle,  and  watched  the  combat 
with  the  greatest  interest,  taking  care,  however, 
f  to  keep  at  a  sufficient  distance  from  it  not  to  be 
involved. 

Suddenly  the  bear  disengaged  himself  from  the 
lion  and  sat  up  on  his  hind  quarters.  The  lion,  which 


^8 


5r*-^vsw-v  H.V.V.OV ^Swyj^:',:^.. •• '%.,-, .^JP^--^  '    .. ,     ,/,    ^..*&y.^ 

^^^^^  :^K 


Toward  the  lion  ambled  a  big  black  bear." — Page  70 


A  WOODLAND  DEAMA 


71 


was  between  him  and  the  precipice,  crouched  to 
spring.  Quicker  than  a  flash  the  bear  flung  his  huge 
bulk  forward.  They  met  in  midair,  clinched,  and 
snarling  and  growling,  rolled  off  the  edge  of  the 
precipice  and  fell  to  their  death. 

The  two  coyotes  set  up  a  short,  sharp  yelp,  and 
with  teeth  grinning  and  tongues  lolling  out  as  though 
in  demoniac  mirth  over  the  result  of  the  combat, 
seized  upon  the  venison,  which  had  been  torn  in  two 
pieces  in  the  fight,  loped  away  and  disappeared  from 
view  in  the  brush. 

The  silent  Indian  watched  this  forest  drama  with 
the  utmost  delight,  and  when  the  coyotes  trotted  off 
with  the  spoil,  he  chuckled  softly.  Cautiously 
creeping  to  the  point  where  the  lion  and  the  bear 
had  vanished,  he  peered  over.  The  chasm  that  yawned 
beneath  was  fully  fifteen  hundred  feet  in  depth,  almost 
a  sheer  drop,  so  the  fate  of  the  combatants  was  certain. 

It  was  fully  two  hours  later  than  Estranjero  had 
calculated  they  would  appear,  when  the  main  body 
came  up.  They  had  followed  the  trail  of  the  wander 
ing  hunter,  thinking  perhaps  other  Indians  might  be 
concealed  in  the  brush,  and  when  they  came  upon  the 
body  of  the  dead  savage,  were  full  of  apprehension 
for  the  safety  of  their  two  comrades.  Their  anxiety 
was  now  relieved  and  they  again  took  up  the  trail, 
but  night  came  on  and  they  were  still  several  miles 
from  the  place  of  rendezvous.  They  worked  their 
way  up  the  creek,  across  Cajon  Pass  in  the  direction 
of  Bear  Valley  and,  thinking  that  El  Estranjero  % 


EL  ESTBANJEKO 


would  take  the  back  trail  when  he  found  they  did  not 
appear,  they  bivouacked  for  the  night  in  a  place  where 
the  pine  needles  lay  thick  under  the  trees,  and  were 
soon  sleeping  the  deep  sleep  of  fatigue. 


.. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


A   NARROW   ESCAPE 

It  was  almost  dark  when  El  Estranjero  arrived  at 
the  rendezvous  agreed  upon  in  the  morning  and  threw 
himself  at  the  foot  of  a  rock  to  wait  for  the  coming 
of  the  rest  of  the  party.  As  the  shadows  grew  deeper 
he  determined  to  make  camp.  The  spot  was  one  he 
had  often  visited  before.  It  was  in  a  sort  of  a  cove, 
under  a  hill,  sheltered  on  three  sides  by  boulders  but 
open  to  the  sky.  Here  a  camp  fire  could  be  made 
whose  glow  would  be  hidden  from  prowling  foes, 
and  as  the  wind  began  to  blow  with  the  penetrating 
chill  of  the  mountain  night  air,  El  Estranjero  piled 
up  small  sticks  that  would  soon  burn  into  coals, 
heaped  some  little  boulders  in  front  of  them  that  they 
might  be  heated  through,  and  made  a  fire. 

He  at  length  became  convinced  that  the  party  was 
unable  to  make  the  camping  spot,  but  feeling  certain 
of  the  safety  of  his  comrades  and  thankful  for  the 
solitude  in  which  he  could  battle  with  his  own  dis 
turbing  thoughts,  he  leaned  his  rifle  against  the  side 
of  the  rocky  chamber,  took  some  jerky  from  his  pouch 
which  he  broiled  over  the  coals.  This,  with  a 
draught  from  his  canteen,  furnished  him  with  the 
first  food  he  had  eaten  that  day. 

With  his  knapsack  for  a  pillow  and  his  feet  toward 
the  stones  warmed  by  the  fire,  he  lay  looking  up  at 


74 


EL  ESTBANJERO 


the  stars.  Pure  and  calm  they  twinkled  in  the  blue 
depths  of  the  night  sky,  and  some  ray  from  them 
seemed  to  shine  upon  the  darkness  of  his  despairing 
thoughts.  The  mysterious  woodland  sounds,  the  soft 
sighing  of  the  night  wind,  the  insistent  cry  of  an  owl, 
the  faint  stirring  of  the  restless  wood  creatures 
soothed  and  lulled  him.  The  bosom  of  the  earth  was 
that  of  the  only  mother  he  knew,  and  he  felt  a  strange 
kinship  with  the  wilderness,  like  one  who,  buffeted 
and  weary,  had  come  back  at  last  to  rest  among  his 

i.  own  people. 

Here  in  the  woods  there  was  only  the  savage  love 
that  knows  no  denial.  Here  was  the  power  of  the 
strong,  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  "What,"  he  mused, 
"has  civilization  given  to  man  that  is  worth  its  primal 
struggle  and  bloodshed?" 

As  if  for  answer,  he  had  a  vision  of  a  room  warm 
with  fire  light  and  lamp  light.  The  pictured  walls, 
the  full  book-shelves,  open  piano  in  the  corner  with 

_  music  upon  the  rack  invited  to  peaceful  rest,  and,  yes, 

§  there  in  a  low  chair  gazing  with  pensive  eyes  into  the 
blaze,  was  a  sweet-faced,  golden-haired  woman.  This 
morning  her  lips  had  been  pressed  against  those  of 
Philip,  it  was  of  Philip  she  was  thinking  now. 

Estranjero  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast  as  if 
to  still  its  throbbing.  "Ah,  fool!"  he  said  savagely 

Pto  himself.    "You  asked  the  question,  your  heart  gave 


the  answer.  Civilization  has  given  us  that.  The 
sheltered  home,  the  love  that  can  forgive  and  can 
renounce.  Aye,  the  love  that  can  outlast  brute  passion, 

! 


A  NAEEOW  ESCAPE 


75 


and  that  is  at  the  root  of  all  the  comfort,  the  beauty, 
the  refinement  that  makes  real  life." 

He  had  not  slept  for  two  nights,  and  the  exertions 
of  the  day  burdened  him  with  a  death-like  fatigue. 
Soon  the  heavy  eyes  closed  and  he  slumbered. 

It  was  at  the  first  streak  of  dawn  that  he  stirred  in 
his  sleep.    The  birds  were  singing,  and  but  half  awake 
he  thought  himself  again  on  the  veranda  with  Alice, 
and  that  the  mocking  bird  was  trilling  in  the  rosebush. 
,    But  there  was  a  snuffing  from  somewhere.     "Down,  , 
>'  Pio,"  he  said,  dreaming  of  one  of  the  hounds.     The 
g  sound  of  his  own  voice  awakened  him  and  he  sat  up. 
As  he  did  so  a  bear-cub  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
enclosure,  whose  sniffing  at  the  butt  of  his  rifle  had' 
been  the  sound  that  he  connected  in  his  dream  with 
Pio,  the  hound,  whined  with  terror.    It  appeared  to  be 
injured,  had  probably  tumbled  off  the  hill  into  the 
enclosure. 

Estranjero  rose  to  his  feet,  but  before  he  could 
move,  the  she-bear  answered  the  cub's  call  with  a 
;::  roar  and  dashed  forward  between  him  and  the  rifle. 
One  quick  glance  around  showed  El  Estranjero  a 
dangling  vine  growing  from  the  boulder  just  above 
his  head.  He  seized  it,  scrambled  over  the  rocky  wall, 
and  ran  for  cover  toward  the  eastern  side  of  the 
mountain.  Here  there  was  a  steep  slope,  the  relic  of 
an  old  landslide,  an  abrupt  descent  of  sand  and  gravel. 
The  bear  was  lumbering  behind  him,  and  he 
plunged  down  this  slope,  the  bear  clumsily  and  with 
some  caution,  keeping  up  the  chase.  A  tall 


76 


EL  ESTEANJEKO 


the  mouth  of  the  ravine  offered  him  a  temporary 
safety,  and  he  scaled  it  and  stood  with  every  muscle 
tense  and  every  sense  alert. 

The  hear  sniffed  for  a  moment  around  the  bole  of 
the  tree,  and  then  proceeded  also  to  ascend.  As  the 
bear  approached  him,  El  Estranjero  climbed  higher 
among  the  branches.  His  quick  eye  had  selected  a 
spot  for  a  foothold,  where  he  could  have  his  arms  free 
and  his  back  braced.  Attaining  this  place,  he  loosened 
his  hatchet  and  hunting  knife,  and  with  a  weapon  in 
each  hand,  awaited  the  onslaught. 

It  came  swiftly.  Clinging  to  the  tree,  the  bear 
made  a  vicious  stroke  with  her  paw,  and  the  claws 
ripped  open  his  shoe,  and  tore  the  flesh  of  his  foot. 
Leaning  across  a  branch  close  to  the  body  of  the  tree 
Estranjero  struck  first  with  his  hatchet  and  then  with 

?  his  knife. 

The  bear  parried  the  blows,  snarling  and  growling. 

|  Estranjero  then  made  a  feint  with  the  dagger  in  his 
left  hand,  and  as  the  bear  struck  at  it,  he  aimed  a 
ferocious  blow  of  the  hatchet  at  the  animal.  It  fell 

,  short,  cutting  a  deep  gash  in  the  paw,  which  caused  the 
blood  to  spurt  over  the  bear's  head  and  body  and  to 

i  enrage  it  to  a  point  of  fury  when  all  caution  was 
abandoned.  With  an  awful  roar  it  made  a  spring  for 
the  limb  upon  which  Estranjero's  feet  rested.  At 

f!  that  instant  he  dropped  his  knife,  and  with  a  spring 
seized  with  his  left  hand  the  branch  above  his  head, 

"  swinging  himself  free  and  just  behind  the  assailant. 
Again  and  again  he  struck  the  bear  upon  the  head 


'Aimed  a  ferocious  blow  of  the  hatchet  at  the  animal." — Page  76 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE 


77 


with  the  hatchet,  and  before  the  startled  brute  could 
defend  itself,  it  tumbled  to  the  ground  with  its  skull 
cleft. 

All  this  time  the  blood  was  flowing  freely  from 
El  Estranjero's  wounded  foot,  and  as  the  bear  fell,  he 
also  dropped  to  the  ground  and  lay  there  insensible. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


IN   TOUCH    WITH    THE   ENEMY 

The  pain  of  Juan's  wound  made  him  restless.  He 
tossed  and  turned  upon  the  ground  vainly  seeking 
sleep,  and  at  last  sat  up  with  his  arms  about  his  knees 
to  await  the  dawn.  Near  him  Philip  slept  the  sleep 
of  healthy  youth.  They  had  chosen  to  lie  a  little 
apart  from  the  others,  and  finally,  while  the  sky 
was  still  the  deep  velvet  purple  of  the  night  and  the 
morning  star  shone  clearly  over  them,  Juan  laid  his 
hand  upon  Philip's  shoulder. 

He  was  wide  awake  in  an  instant  and  on  the  alert. 
"What  is  it,  Juan?"  he  whispered. 

"Sefior,"  answered  Juan,  "Indian  is  like  a  good 
hound.  He  know  things  he  cannot  tell  and  cannot 
tell  how  he  knows  them.  Senor  El  Estranjero  did  not 
come  back.  I  go  to  find  him.  He  need  Juan." 

"Then  I  will  go  too,"  said  Philip.  "Here,  I  will 
lay  a  stick  where  we  have  been,  with  two  others  to 
make  an  arrowhead  pointing  the  way  we  have  gone. 
When  the  others  awaken  and  see  them  I  think  they  will 
understand." 

Softly  they  made  their  preparations  and  stole  out 
of  camp.  It  was  light  enough  for  Juan  to  see  his  way, 
and  growing  lighter  every  moment.  On  they  went, 
swiftly  and  softly,  for  two  hours. 

dawn  had  come,  and  they  had  now  reached  the 
[78] 


IN  TOUCH  WITH  THE  ENEMY        79 

camping  spot  indicated  by  El  Estranjero  as  their  ren 
dezvous  for  the  preceding  night.  They  found  there 
the  ashes  of  a  dead  fire,  Estranjero's  rifle  leaning 
against  a  great  boulder,  his  knapsack  on  the  ground, 
still  bearing  the  imprint  where  his  head  had  lain  upon 
it,  and  all  about  the  huge  tracks  of  a  bear  and  the 
smaller  footprints  of  a  cub. 

"My  God !"  cried  Philip.    "Look,  Juan !" 

Juan,  the  clever  trailer,  had  taken  in  the  whole 
camp  at  a  glance  and  had  also  noticed  the  dangling 
vine  and  the  moss  and  lichen  recently  scraped  from 
the  side  of  the  boulder.  "See,  Sefior,  he  went  over 
the  rock.  Quick,  let  us  follow.  This  is  a  hot  trail." 

Around  the  boulder  they  fairly  flew,  and  sure 
enough,  the  footprints  of  a  man  and  those  of  a  bear 
were  plainly  marked  in  the  soft  dust. 

Quick  as  a  trained  setter  dog,  Juan  picked  up  the 
trail  and  followed  it  unerringly  to  the  top  of  the  slide. 
Arrived  there,  a  fearful  growling  and  snarling  at  the 
bottom  hastened  their  steps. 

Half  rolling,  half  running  down  the  incline,  they 
arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  just  as  the  bear,  his  head 
cleft  by  El  Estranjero's  hatchet,  dropped,  and 
the  next  instant  Estranjero  himself  fell  insensible  at' 
their  feet. 

Upon  one  side  from  the  waist  downward  he  was 
covered  with  blood,  and  Juan  threw  himself  upon  him 
with  a  low  guttural  groan  and  with  his  hunting  knife 
began  to  cut  away  the  clothing  to  find  his  wound. 

To  the  surprise  of  the  rescuers,  he  was  uninjured. 


80 


EL  ESTKANJEKO 


except  for  the  deep  scratches  made  by  the  bear's  claws 
upon  his  foot,  and  was  merely  stunned  by  the  fall  and 
faint  from  the  loss  of  blood. 

He  soon  recovered  consciousness,  sat  up  and  looked 
about  him,  and  was  able  to  relate  what  had  happened. 
Juan  dressed  the  wounded  foot  with  great  tenderness 
and  skill,  entirely  forgetting  his  own  wound,  and  the 
three  made  their  way  back  to  the  boulder  camp,  taking 
with  them  some  steaks  cut  from  the  dead  bear  for 
their  breakfast  and  future  provision  for  the  scouting 
party.  El  Seiior's  wound  was  not  serious  enough  to 
prevent  his  traveling,  although  with  some  pain  and 
discomfort,  of  which  he  said  nothing;  but  he  was 
somewhat  shaken  by  the  experience  of  the  morning, 
and  sat  apart  as  Philip  and  Juan  broiled  the  steaks  for 
their  breakfast. 

His  eyes  followed  Philip  as  he  busied  himself  about 
the  fire.  He  noted  the  grace  of  his  movements,  the 
sparkle  in  his  dark  eyes,  the  manner  in  which  his  hair 
fa  waved  about  his  face,  and  thought  him  a  gallant 
figure,  able  to  win  the  love  of  any  woman.  Brave, 
yet  gentle,  with  high  spirits,  iron  nerve  and  a  loyal 
soul,  surely  Alice  had  chosen  well. 

As  for  himself,  he  was  a  man  without  a  name,  and 
without  a  dollar  in  the  world,  for  the  idea  of  money  for 
his  services  at  the  Holcomb  ranch  never  entered  his 
thoughts,  and  knowing  it  would  be  likely  to  offend 
him,  had  never  been  mentioned  by  his  benefactor. 
His  friend  had  always  been  alert  to  his  slightest  need 
of  clothing,  arms,  tobacco,  all  that  was  essential, 


IN  TOUCH  WITH  THE  ENEMY        81 

and  beyond  that  El  Estranjero  had  never  before 
thought. 

Now,  however,  his  mind  awoke  to  the  fact  that  he 
had  nothing  to  offer  Alice  but  a  love  that  was  willing 
to  serve  her  to  the  death,  yes,  and  beyond  death.  But 
with  Philip  by  her  side,  endowed  as  he  was  with  all 
the  good  gifts  of  person  and  estate  that  would  make 
her  happy,  his  love  would  be  turned  back  upon  itself  to 
torture  him. 

Yet  a  man  must  do  a  man's  part.  He  must  not 
yield  to  grief,  disappointment  or  pain,  and  so  he 
smiled  wanly  over  Philip's  merry  quips  as  he  broiled 
the  bear  steak,  and  took  his  breakfast  at  his  hands, 
though  he  ate  little  and  spoke  not  at  all. 

The  rest  of  the  party  appeared  before  the  sun  was 
well  arisen,  and  the  forward  movement  was  resumed, 
El  Estranjero  and  Juan  in  the  lead  as  the  day  before, 
making  nothing  of  their  wounds,  though  Juan's 
shoulder  was  sore  and  stiff,  and  El  Seiior  limped  with 
every  step. 

To-day  the  little  party  traveled  in  couples,  at  some 
distance  apart.  A  little  beyond  the  boulder  camp  the 
trail  branched  in  three  directions  and  it  was  evident 
that  the  Indian  band  had  divided  here  into  three 
bands,  probably  the  better  to  provide  for  their  needs 
as  in  this  way  they  would  be  able  to  secure  more  game. 
Each  couple  of  scouts,  therefore,  had  his  work  apart 
from  the  others,  four  being  left  on  the  main  trail  as  a 
guard  to  the  pack  horses. 

Philip,  as  the  day  before,  acted  as  rear  guard 

^~ 


82 


EL  ESTBANJEKO 


perfect  knowledge  of  the  mountains  standing  him  in 
good  stead  in  making  wide  detours  to  search  for  signs. 

No  schoolboy  at  a  match  game  of  football  could 
enjoy  the  sport  more  than  Philip  did  this  expedition. 
To  him  it  was  a  part  of  the  "thrilling"  process  of  which 
he  had  spoken  to  Alice,  and  he  would  have  thought 
it  the  greatest  of  misfortunes  had  the  attack  upon 
the  pueblo,  and  the  pursuit  of  the  Indians  occurred 
before  he  had  arrived  at  Elevado.  Scores  of  times  he 
congratulated  himself  upon  his  good  luck  in  actually 
participating  in  this  phase  of  western  life,  of  which 
he  had  so  often  read. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  heard,  far  to  the  left  of 
him,  where  one  branch  of  the  trail  made  a  bend,  the 
report  of  a  gun,  followed  by  a  rifle  shot,  and  at  inter 
vals  another  and  another.  He  started  instantly  at  a 
free  run  toward  the  sound. 

A  few  minutes  masterly  sprinting  brought  him  to 
the  top  of  a  rise,  and  looking  downward  into  a  little 
clearing,  he  saw  two  of  the  party  of  scouts,  back  to 
,  back  and  partially  sheltered  by  a  boulder,  surrounded 
at  a  little  distance  by  ten  Indians. 

Throwing  himself  on  the  ground  behind  a  log, 
Philip  opened  a  well-directed  fire. 

Disconcerted  by  this  unseen  enemy,  the  Indians 
exposed  themselves  to  the  range  of  the  scouts.  A  lively 
fusillade  of  arrows  and  bullets  was  directed  toward 
/'his  cover,  but  the  two  white  men  standing  together 
'v  now  broke  for  the  brush,  and  from  it  kept  up  such  a 
deadly  fire,  that,  united  to  Philip's  execution,  it  soon 


< 


'Philip  opened  a  well-directed  fire." — Page  82 


IN  TOUCH  WITH  THE  ENEMY        83 


caused  the  Indians  to  give  up  the  fight  and  wildly  flee, 
leaving  four  dead  and  one  mortally  wounded  in  the 
clearing. 

It  was  some  time  before  Philip  ventured  from  his 
place  of  concealment,  and  keeping  under  cover,  crept 
to  the  boulder  where  he  had  first  seen  the  scouts  at 
bay. 

He  could  not  tell  whether  they  were  still  near 
there,  or  whether  they  had  been  killed  in  the  fight. 
Suddenly,  as  he  wondered  how  these  perplexing  doubts 
would  be  resolved,  a  few  bars  of  "La  Golandrina" 
were  whistled  very  softly  by  some  one  in  the  brush 
ahead  of  him.  A  little  to  the  right,  another  whistler 
cautiously  added  the  next  few  notes.  Philip  softly 
whistled  the  whole  strain,  and  before  he  had  ended 
the  two  scouts,  both  unhurt,  crept  to  his  cover,  and 
carefully  and  as  quietly  as  the  creatures  of  the  wood 
steal  through  their  coverts,  the  three  stole  from  the 
dangerous  neighborhood,  all  keeping  close  together, 
noting  every  sound,  and  speaking  only  in  whispers. 

It  was  dark  when,  they  reached  the  camping  place 
agreed  upon  before  the  party  set  out  in  the  morning, 
and  El  Estranjero  was  much  relieved  when  the  young 
man  appeared,  and  casting  down  his  knapsack  settled 
himself  by  the  camp  fire  and  said,  "Here,  boys,  give 
me  bear  meat  for  two  men,  for  I  have  missed  one 
meal  to-day,  and  must  eat  twice  right  now.3 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  CAPTIVE 

In  a  little  secluded  valley  between  two  lofty  moun 
tains,  the  Pah-Utes  had  made  their  camp.  They  had 
traveled  fast  after  their  raid  upon  the  pueblo,  and  the 
three  divisions  of  the  band  were  now  united.  Their 
scouts  and  runners  had  no  knowledge  of  the  fate  that 
hung  upon  the  rear  in  the  shape  of  the  sharpshooters 
and  scouts  whose  adventures  we  have  been  relating. 
The  delay  of  almost  twelve  hours  between  the  raid 
and  the  setting  out  of  the  white  men  had  served  its 
purpose  of  convincing  the  Indians  that  the  whites 
intended  no  pursuit,  and  would  content  themselves 
with  defending  the  valley. 

With  so  much  care  had  El  Estranjero  planned  the 
chase,  and  with  so  much  skill  had  it  been  conducted, 
that  the  Indians  had  been  entirely  deceived  and,  now 
apparently  safe,  they  determined  to  camp.  Their 
scouts  were  called  in  and  now  in  the  late  afternoon  the 
hunters  were  out  for  venison  and  the  warriors  were 
resting  in  the  shade. 

All  day  Juan  and  Philip  had  kept  close  behind  the 
enemy,  skulking  in  the  brush  far  enough  in  the  rear 
to  follow  their  every  movement.  Now  that  the  camp 
was  made  they  lay  a  half  mile  to  the  south  of  the  spot 
in  the  thick  brush,  overlooking  a  mountain  stream 

[84] 


THE  CAPTIVE 


85 


that  just  below  them  broadened  into  a  deep  and  quiet 
pool. 

It  was  sunset  and  the  nesting  birds  were  fluttering 
to  their  rest,  and  the  woodland  creatures  were  undis 
turbed  by  the  two  concealed  men  who  lay  as  quiet  as 
though  they  were  fallen  tree  trunks. 

Finally  Juan  touched  his  companion  with  his  foot 
and  pointed  downward.  A  squaw  stood  by  the  pool 
not  twenty  feet  away.  Instead  of  the  square,  shape 
less  figure  characteristic  of  most  of  these  Pah-Ute 
women,  this  squaw,  who  was  very  young,  apparently 
about  seventeen,  was  slight  and  lithe,  and  the  pose 
of  her  slender  figure  had  such  an  airy  grace  that 
Philip  involuntarily  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow, 
the  better  to  observe  her. 

Her  dress  consisted  of  moccasins  and  leggins,  a 
short  skirt  and  loose  tunic,  all  of  well-tanned  deer 
skin.  About  her  neck  was  a  chain  made  of  the  red 
seed  buds  of  the  wild  rose,  and  the  cincture  wound 
about  her  forehead,  under  which  her  hair  fell  in  two 
long  braids  almost  to  her  waist,  held  an  eagle's 
feather.  Twined  in  the  braids  of  her  hair  were  chains 
of  the  same  red  seed  buds. 

Her  dress  was  that  of  a  favorite  wife  or  daughter 
of  a  chief,  and  her  bearing  that  of  a  princess  of  the,* 
wild.    As  the  hidden  watchers  observed  her,  it  became 
apparent  that  she  was  preparing  to  refresh  herself 
by  removing  the  dust  of  the  long  days  and  nights  of-5 
swift  travel.    She  drew  off  her  moccasins  and  leggins, 'i 
and   to   the  great   astonishment   of  the  men   in   the 


86  EL  ESTRANJERO 

bushes,  they  saw  that  her  slender,  shapely  limbs  were 
as  white  as  snow. 

Her  complexion,  bronzed  by  wind  and  sun,  was  as 
dark  as  that  of  any  other  Indian  girl,  but  looking 
closely  at  her  face,  upturned  toward  the  evening  light, 
Philip  now  saw  that  her  features  were  regular  and 
delicately  formed,  her  eyes  a  clear  blue,  and  her 
curling  hair  a  dark  brown,  verging  upon  black. 

"She  is  white,"  his  lips  framed,  as  he  looked  at 
Juan.  "Yes,  Senor,"  Juan  replied  in  the  same  way, 
with  a  gesture  warning  silence. 

The  Indian  girl  laved  her  feet,  hands  and  face  in 
the  cool,  clear  water,  then  replaced  her  moccasins  and 
leggins,  and  crooning  contentedly  to  herself,  gathered 
up  her  tunic  with  her  hand,  forming  a  sort  of  bag,  and, 
holding  it  thus,  she  garnered  a  quantity  of  the  acorns 
lying  everywhere  beneath  the  trees,  and  disappeared 
in  the  direction  of  the  camp. 

"Sh,e  cannot  be  a  prisoner,"  Philip  whispered  to 
Juan,  when  she  was  out  of  sight,  "for  she  comes  and 
goes  as  she  pleases,  and  acts  as  though  she  were  one 
of  them." 

"Senor,"  replied  the  Indian,  "she  may  have  been 
long  among  them,  and  surely  belongs  to  a  chief.  He 
must  set  much  store  by  her,  or  he  would  never  have 
brought  her  out  with  a  war  party." 

"We  must  see,"  Philip  declared.  "I'll  never  go  out 
of  these  woods  and  leave  a  white  girl  with  those 
beasts.  I  don't. care  who  she  is,  we  must  get  her  away 
from  them.  She  stands  a  chance  of  getting  killed  by 


THE  CAPTIVE  87 

some  of  our  men.  Jove,  she's  a  lovely  creature,  the 
only  handsome  Indian  squaw  I  ever  saw,  and  she's  a 
white  woman." 

A  whispered  consultation  determined  the  two  men 
to  wait  until  they  could  see  the  smoke  of  the  camp 
fire,  which  would  indicate  the  return  of  the  hunters, 
and  then  Philip  would  lie  concealed  on  the  top  of  the 
hill,  where  he  could  watch  the  movements  of  the 
Indians,  while  Juan  was  to  wriggle  through  the  brush 
to  a  point  where  he  could  both  see  and  hear  what  went 
on  about  the  fire. 

Juan   spoke   and   understood    the   Pah-Ute   dialect 
and  he  surmised  that  on  this  night  the  Indians  would 
council  and  determine  what  should  be  done.     He  was<S 
resolved  to  hear  their  plans  and  to  carry  them  back  to 
El  Estranjero. 

The  girl  moved  freely  about  the  camp,  busying 
herself  about  the  cooking  fire.  With  a  smooth  stone 
she  pounded  her  acorns  in  the  hollow  of  a  rock,  and 
into  a  hole  in  the  ground,  rolled  a  stone  which  she 
heated  at  the  fire.  Upon  the  flat,  hot  surface  of  this 
she  placed  the  cakes  of  acorn  bread,  covered  them 
with  grass  and  leaves,  and  with  earth  to  hold  the 
heat,  and  left  them  to  bake. 

The  hunters  brought  in  a  fine  buck,  which  they  cut 
up  into  rations,  which  were  equally  divided,  and  soon 
several  small  fires  were  going,  over  which  the  venison 
was  being  charred  at  the  ends  of  sharpened  sticks 
held  over  the  coals. 

After  the  Indians  had  satisfied  their  hunger,  Juan  i 


88  EL  ESTRANJERO 

counted  forty  braves  assembled  round  the  council 
fire.  He  wriggled  himself  quietly  through  the  brush 
and  crept  into  the  shadow  of  a  great  boulder  about 
twenty  feet  from  the  circle  and  out  of  the  light  of  the 
fire,  where  he  could  hear  all  that  was  said. 

At  first  the  Indians  sat  silent  and  sullen,  the  chief 
with  down-dropped  chin  and  eyes  fixed  upon  the  blaze. 

First  one  and  then  another  brave  arose  and  spoke 
of  the  hardships  of  the  past  few  days,  the  failure  of 
the  raid,  the  death  of  some  friend  or  brother,  and 
finally  one  gigantic  brave,  encouraged  by  the  sullen 
looks  cast  at  the  silent  chief,  openly  blamed  him  with 
the  failure  of  the  expedition  and  pointedly  asked  him 
how  he  would  dare  to  face  the  old  men  and  squaws  of 
the  tribe  in  their  far-away  home,  with  only  this  little 
remnant  of  the  band  that  had  crossed  the  mountain 
with  him. 

Finally  the  chief  arose,  and  with  stately  dignity 
answered  the  criticisms  of  the  braves.  He  told  them 
that  his  heart  was  filled  with  grief  and  shame  over 
their  losses,  but  that  the  Great  Spirit  was  against 
them,  and  who  could  fight  the  Powers  of  the  Air? 

He   said   that   in   a  vision   he  had   been   warned   to 

i 

retreat  as  fast  as  possible,  but  that  they  would  soon 
be  in  the  region  where  it  was  impossible  to  kill  the 
game.  It  was  equally  impossible  to  hunt  widely  in  these 
mountains,  for  the  whites  would  no  doubt  pursue 
them  and  take  vengeance.  Therefore  he  counselled 
a  division  of  the  band  as  before  in  three  parts. 

Ten  of  the  bravest,  with  the  gallant  Thunder-face, 


THE  CAPTIVE  89 

indicating  the  tall  savage  who  had  last  spoken,  should 
go  to  the  valley  and  drive  such  cattle  of  the  settlers 
as  they  might  find  feeding  there,  to  the  head  of  the 
Pass,  and  those  would  supply  them  with  beef  for  the 
journey.  All  were  then  to  meet  again  at  a  certain  spot 
on  the  banks  of  the  Mojave.  He  and  a  division  of 
ten  braves  were  to  make  as  much  haste  as  possible  to 
the  rendezvous,  where  the  first  ten  with  the  stolen  cattle 
were  to  meet  them.  The  second  band  of  twenty, 
including  those  who,  on  account  of  wounds,  could  only 
travel  slowly,  were  to  kill  what  game  they  safely  could 
and  meet  the  others  there  also. 

Juan,  when  this  plan  was  agreed  upon,  slipped 
quietly  away  to  the  hilltop  where  Philip  lay,  and  the 
two  with  such  haste  as  the  most  extreme  caution 
would  permit,  made  their  way  back  to  the  trail,  and 
traveling  all  night  arrived  at  their  own  camp  with 
this  most  important  information,  just  at  daybreak. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
FRANCESCA'S  SECRET 

The  days  so  full  of  adventure  to  El  Estranjero  and 
Philip,  dragged  heavily  by  with  Alice.  She  had 
come  suddenly  into  her  woman's  heritage  of  love  and 
suffering,  and  her  whole  life  seemed  thrown  into  hope 
less  confusion.  Her  books  and  music,  her  rides  over 
the  brown  meadows  and  into  the  near-by  canons  no 
longer  held  interest  for  her.  Her  household  duties 
were  performed  so  mechanically  that  she  was  hardly 
conscious  of  them. 

She  was  restless  and  listless  by  turns,  but  always 
r there  was  the  consciousness  of  emptiness  and  dissatis 
faction  almost  too  overpowering  to  be  borne.  She 
thought  often  of  the  strange  actions  of  Francesca  and 
remembered  her  agitation  on  the  night,  so  long  ago, 
when  El  Estranjero  gave  his  first  sign  of  conscious 
ness,  after  days  of  stupor  or  delirium. 

One  afternoon  when  Francesca  sat  upon  the  ground 
in  the  patio,  her  hands  busy  with  the  rushes  she  was 
preparing  for  a  basket,  Alice  came  and  stood  by  her 
side.  For  some  time  she  watched  the  old  woman's 
brown  fingers  nimbly  flying  in  and  out  as  she  deftly 
fashioned  the  shape  of  her  work.  At  last  she  knelt 
beside  her. 

"Francesca,"  she  said,  "how  long  have  you  served 
in  this  house?" 

£90] 


FKANCESCA'S  SECRET 


91 


In  her  childhood  Alice  had  used  the  Indian  dialect 
with  its  large  sprinkling  of  corrupted  Spanish,  as 
well  as  she  spoke  her  mother  tongue.  This  was  the 
first  time  she  had  used  it  since  her  return  to  her  home, 
and  Francesca  glanced  at  her  with  a  gleam  of  pleasure 
upon  her  dark  face.  Of  old,  when  her  fair  nursling 
was  bent  upon  wheedling  some  dainty  from  her,  or 
extorting  some  unusual  and  forbidden  pleasure,  she 
would  speak  to  her  in  her  own  tongue. 

Francesca  at  first  made  no  answer,  for  she  was  slow 
of  speech  at  all  times. 

"Come,  now,  Francesca,  we  haven't  had  a  good  talk 
for  a  long  time,"  Alice  continued,  settling  herself 
upon  the  ground  and  toying  with  the  reeds.  "How 
long  since  you  first  came  to  live  with  us  in  this  house?" 

"It  was  in  the  winter  before  the  Senorita  was  born, 
that  the  Senor,  her  father,  came  with  his  young  wifey* 
here,"  said  the  Indian  woman.     "Isidro,  my  husband,^ 
and   I   myself   were  born   on   this   rancho,   long   ago 
before  the  Gringo  came.     It  was  our  home.     We  did 
not  wish  to  leave  it." 

"And  all  these  years  have  you  never  been  anywhere 
else  but  here?" 

"Once,"  said  the  old  woman,  proudly,  "the  Sefiora, 
your  mother,  took  me  to  the  pueblo  de  Los  Angeles. 
You  were  a  baby,  I  went  to  tend  you." 

"And  did  you  like  the  pueblo,  Francesca?" 

"Non,  Senorita,  my  own  home  is  best  for  me."-. 

"Francesca,"  Alice  said,  as  if  carelessly,  "you  were 
here  when  El  Estranjero  first  came,  were  you  not?" 


92 


EL  ESTEANJERO 


The  old  woman  glanced  sharply  at  the  girl,  but  she 
was  humming  a  tune  as  she  played  with  the  reeds, 
and  seemed  to  be  simply  amusing  herself  with  the  con 
versation. 

"I  was  here,  Senorita." 

"And  you  took  care  of  him  when  he  lay  ill,  did 
you  not?" 

"Always,"  replied  Francesca,  roused  from  her  usual 
taciturnity.  "Vera  says  she  helped.  Bah!  Vera 
knows  nothing  about  the  sick.  It  was  I  and  I  only  who 
bathed  his  head  when  he  cried  out  and  talked  strange 
things." 

"Francesca,  did  he  ever  speak  of  anybody  or  any 
place  in  his  sickness?" 

"Never,  Senorita.  Often  I  listened  and  tried  to 
understand,  but  never  a  word  did  he  say  of  any  place 
or  any  person." 

"Francesca,"  suddenly  said  Alice,  kneeling  in  front 
of  the  old  woman  and  laying  her  hands  upon  the 
brown  wrists,  "Francesca,  tell  me,  what  did  you  see 
that  night  when  you  cried  out  and  all  came  running 
to  you.  Why  did  you  cry  and  why  did  you  rock  your 
self  and  mourn  as  though  one  were  dead?" 

The  Indian  woman  shuddered,  and  tried  to  hide  her 
face  upon  her  arm,  but  Alice  shook  her  imperiously 
by  the  wrists. 

"Francesca,  Francesca,  you  must  tell  me  what  I 
ask."  The  old  woman  cast  down  her  eyes  sullenly 
and  said  nothing.  Alice  released  her  wrists  and  threw 
her  arms  about  the  crone's  neck. 


FRANCESCA 'S  SECRET 


93 


"There,  there,  poor  Francesca,  I  have  grieved  you. 
You  know  I  love  you  and  I  thought  you  loved  me," 
here  her  voice  became  plaintive.  "I  thought  you 
surely  loved  me,  but  your  Senorita  has  been  away  for 
so  many  years  that  you  no  longer  love  her  nor  wish 
to  speak  with  her  and  tell  her  things  that  will  amuse 
her  as  you  did  when  she  was  a  little  girl." 

She  took  her  arms  away  from  the  unresponsive  old 
woman  and  dropped  dejectedly  at  her  side,  the  tears 
shining  in  her  eyes. 

Francesca  glanced  at  her  from  under  her  shaggy 
brows  and  her  stolid  face  softened  into  tenderness. 
She  put  her  arms  about  the  young  girl  and  drew  her 
to  her  ample  bosom,  rocking  her  back  and  forth  as  if 
she  were  an  infant. 

"Ah,  my  Senorita,"  she  crooned.  "My  poor  little 
motherless  white  dove.  Francesca  loves  you  better 
than  she  loves  her  own  blood,  and  I  will  tell  you,  but 
it  must  be  between  us,  a  thing  never  to  be  spoken  of 
and  never  to  be  told  another.  Not  once  did  I  see  it," 
and  she  ceased  her  caressing  of  the  young  girl,  who 
drew  back  and  watched  her  curiously,  for  the  gaze  of 
the  Indian  woman  was  fixed  with  horror  and  her  form 
had  suddenly  stiffened.  "Not  once  did  I  see  it,  but 
many  times  since,  and  always  the  same.  Always  it 
was  in  the  night  when  El  Estranjero  slept.  Always 
it  was  when  I  was  wide  awake,  so  I  know  it  was  ngt  a 
dream.  Senorita,  think  you  the  Great  Spirit  yet  speaks 
to  his  children?" 

7 


94 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


"Oh,  yes/'  said  Alice  softly,  "I  am  sure  He  does 
to  many." 

"But  think  you  the  Great  Spirit  ever  places  a  pic 
ture  before  them  in  the  air,  a  picture  where  men  and 
women  move  and  speak  words  that  can  even  be  heard?" 

"Perhaps,"  answered  Alice,  trembling  with  eager 
ness,  feeling  herself  upon  the  verge  of  some  great 
mystery. 

"Years  have  I  thought  upon  this  as  I  sit  braiding 
the  baskets  in  the  shade  or  going  about  my  work. 
Often  have  I  thought  to  ask  El  Senor,  but  always  has 
something  held  me  back.  Senorita,  he  is  gentle  and 
good.  Never  does  he  say,  'Francesca,  do  you  this/ 
or  'Francesca,  do  you  that/  but  at  all  times  he  com 
mands  me  without  words.  Senorita,  tell  me  why  is 
it?  Your  father  have  I  served  for  five  and  twenty 
years,  and  yet  what  he  wants  he  must  tell  me,  for  I 
am  but  a  stupid  woman  and  never  think  upon  it,  but 
El  Estranjero — "  She  broke  off  and  sat  gazing  into 
the  distance. 

"But  El  Estranjero?"  Alice  reminded  her,  speaking 
the  name  with  a  lingering  upon  the  syllables  as 
though  she  loved  it. 

"Ah,  yes,"  resumed  Francesca,  "but  El  Estranjero 
tells  me  what  he  wishes  without  speaking  a  word. 
When  he  is  ill,  though  I  be  miles  away  from  him  I 
know  it,  when  he  is  in  danger  I  see  it." 

"But  he  was  in  no  danger  that  night  when  you 
cried  so  terribly  and  I  and  Philip  stood  by  the  door 
looking  in.  He  was  lying  upon  his  bed  and  father 


behind  the  trees  and  rocks  there  come  Indians." — Page  95 


FRANCESCA'S  SECRET 


95 


and  all  of  us  were  on  the  veranda  just  outside  his 
window." 

"Ah,  that  night,"  almost  whispered  the  old  woman. 
"It  was  the  first  time,  and  so  I  feared  and  cried  aloud, 
but,  oh,  the  many  times  since  that  I  have  seen  it." 

"What  was  it?"  Alice  inquired  gently,  trembling 
now  lest  the  unwonted  garrulity  of  the  old  woman 
should  fail  her. 

"It  was  night  and  dark,"  began  the  old  woman, 
closing  her  eyes  and  clasping  her  knees,  swaying  her 
body  gently  back  and  forth  as  she  spoke.  It  was 
black  night,  and  there  was  thunder  and  there  were 
wagons,  many  wagons  round  about  a  fire.  And  there 
was  lightning,  and  it  was  in  the  woods  upon  a  lofty 
mountain." 

She  rehearsed  the  scene  as  though  she  were  actually 
seeing  it,  and  as  her  narrative  suddenly  changed  from 
the  past  tense  to  the  present,  Alice  understood  that 
this  stolid  Indian  woman,  whom  she  knew  as  wholly 
practical  and  unimaginative,  was  speaking  what  she 
believed  she  was  seeing. 

"There  is  lightning,"  continued  the  Indian  woman, 
monotonously,  "and  now  through  the  woods,  hiding 
behind  the  trees  and  rocks,  there  come  Indians." 

"Indians—"  breathed  Alice. 

"Yes,   they  are  Indians,    naked,   with   war  paint, 

^Apaches,"  and  the  woman  wailed  the  word,  "Apaches, 

for  have  I  not  seen  them  when  I  was  a  child  ?    Was  it 

not   they  who   burned   the   rancheria   long  ago   and 

murdered  my  kindred?     Ah,  yes,  it  is  Apaches,  and 


96 


EL  ESTBANJEEO 


Pah-Utes  are  there,  and  with  them  a  white  man, 
and  he  wears  gray  clothes,  see  he  is  leading  them  to 
the  wagons !" 

"It  is  not  El  Estranjero,"  cried  Alice,  with  a  face 
white  as  that  of  a  dead  woman. 

"Non,  non,"  cried  the  Indian.  "Now  see,  there  is 
El  Estranjero,  over  by  the  fire.  See  how  he  springs  up 
as  the  Apaches  give  their  war  cry.  He  has  slept,  as 
have  those  in  the  wagons.  See,  they  drag  them 
forth,  women  and  little  children  and  old  men.  See 
the  Apaches  strike  them  with  the  hatchet,  they  scalp 
them  with  the  knife.  Ah,  there  is  a  woman  and  child. 
El  Estranjero  has  placed  them  behind  him  against  a 
tree.  He  has  taken  a  hatchet  from  an  Apache,  he 
strikes  as  the  brave  comes  for  him.  There,  he  has 
cut  the  Apache's  head  through  and  he  falls.  Ah, 
and  another  and  another." 

Alice  listened  with  every  nerve  tense,  so  graphically 
did  the  old  woman  read  the  picture  that  in  some  man 
ner  her  mind  conjured  up. 

"Ah,  El  Estranjero  is  down !    Now  see  the  woman. 
She  is  beautiful.     Her  hair  is  brown  and  her  eyes  are 
v  blue.     She    kneels    beside    him    as    a    tall    Pah-Ute 
would  scalp  him.     The  man  in  gray  has  come  up. 
She  lifts  her  hands  to  him  as  if  she  would  pray.    'He 
is  dead/  she  says  to  the  man  in  gray.    They  shot  him 
%,  in  the  head,  he  was  killed  instantly,  and  oh,  you  are 
white,  do  not  let  them  take  his  scalp/     The  Indian 
knows  the  white  woman's  speech  and  puts  his  knife 
aside,  for  now  it  is  all  over,  all  are  dead  but  the  white 


FKANCESCA'S  SECRET 


97 


woman  and  the  little  child  that  is  crying  and  clinging 
to  her.  The  Indian  looks  at  her.  'You  were  his 
squaw  ?'  he  asks.  'Oh,  my  husband,  my  husband,'  she 
says,  and  weeps,  and,  'Oh,  our  poor  little  child,'  and 
she  takes  it  to  her  bosom.  The  Indian  makes  a  sign 
to  the  man  in  gray,  he  turns  and  goes.  The  Indian 
makes  the  woman  get  up,  he  binds  her  hands,  he  sets 
the  child  on  his  shoulder,  they  go,  and  then  it  is  all 
dark,  I  see  no  more." 

Francesca  was  silent.  Her  lips,  mumbling,  gave 
forth  no  further  sound;  she  rocked  back  and  forth 
thus  for  a  few  minutes,  and  while  Alice  sat  staring 
into  nothingness,  trying  to  comprehend  the  meaning 
of  the  strange  story  she  had  been  told,  the  old  woman 
softly  arose  and  went  away. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


THE  COUNCIL 

The  continued  absence  of  Philip  and  Juan  from  the 
rendezvous  had  now  excited  El  Estranjero's  gravest 
apprehensions,  and  he  was  making  preparations  to 
go  in  search  of  them  when  they  came  into  camp. 
The  party  was  now  all  together,  and  so  far  no  serious 
casualty  had  occurred.  After  eating  their  hasty 
breakfast,  they  all  stood  and  sat  around  about  the  fire, 
which  in  the  chill  of  the  early  morning  in  the  moun 
tains  felt  most  comfortable,  and  listened  to  the  tale  of 
the  two  returned  scouts. 

It  had  seemed  to  El  Estranjero  that  the  Indians 
must  have  had  some  other  object  than  running  off  the 
herds  about  the  pueblo  or  they  would  never  have 
assembled  so  formidable  a  war  party  to  journey  across 
the  desert  from  their  Nevada  home. 

He  questioned  Juan  closely  concerning  what  he 
had  heard  as  he  lay  behind  the  boulder,  and  became 
convinced  that  the  possession  of  the  rich  land  of  the 
upper  San  Gabriel  valley  with  its  numerous  flocks  and 
herds  had  tempted  them. 

Should  the  Indians  return  to  their  own  country  even 
with  but  half  the  force  with  which  they  ventured  out, 
the  expedition  might  be  repeated  when  they  had 
recovered  from  thedisaster.  It  was  the  opinion  of 


THE  COUNCIL 


El  Estranjero  that  this  band  must  be  exterminated  to 
the  last  man. 

He  gave  this  opinion  to  his  comrades.  He  called 
to  their  mind  the  many  raids  this  same  tribe  had  made 
upon  the  whites,  the  hundreds  of  sheep,  cattle,  and 
horses  they  had  stolen  and  driven  off,  the  buildings 
they  had  burned,  and  lastly,  their  attack  upon  the 
pueblo,  and  what  horrors  might  have  happened  had 
they  not  been  forewarned. 

No  peace  could  be  expected,  he  said,  that  would  be 
permanent  until  the  Indians  had  been  given  a  punish 
ment  so  drastic  that  it  would  be  remembered  for  all 
time. 

As  El  Sefior  was  little  given  to  making  long 
speeches,  his  views  made  a  deep  impression  upon  his 
comrades,  and  when  he  had  voiced  his  ideas,  the  little 
party,  standing  at  attention  around  the  camp  fire, 
raised  their  right  hands  to  heaven  and  solemnly  swore 
not  to  turn  back  until  the  enemy  was  wiped  out. 

One  of  the  pack  horses  had  fallen  lame  on  the  pre 
vious  day's  march,  and  it  was  decided  to  ease  his 
burden  to  the  other  horse,  and  before  the  injured  ani 
mal  should  be  unable  to  travel,  to  send  it  back  to  the 
pueblo  by  one  of  the  scouts,  who  could  make  faster 
progress,  even  riding  the  lame  horse,  than  he  could 
on  foot. 

This  man  was  to  travel  night  and  day,  abandoning 
the  horse  should  it  become  unfit  for  service,  and  to 
carry  to  Mr.  Holcomb  and  the  settlers  in  the  valley  the 
news  of  the  proposed  Indian  raid  at  Crafton. 


100  EL  ESTBANJEKO 

This  same  man  was  to  inform  the  pueblo  of  the 
fact  that  this  chase,  being  the  proverbial  "stern  chase," 
was  apt  to  be  a  long  one,  and  if  it  was  to  be  effective, 
they  must  have  provisions,  as  it  was  a  serious  handicap 
to  have  to  hunt  for  their  meat,  and  the  hunting  was 
attended  with  great  danger,  when  hostile  Indians  were 
so  near. 

The  conference  had  lasted  for  several  hours,  and 
the  transferring  of  the  pack  and  starting  the  returning 
scout  upon  his  way  had  consumed  more  time.  As  all 
were  foot-sore  and  the  pack  horse  that  henceforth  must 
carry  a  double  load  needed  rest,  it  was  decided  that 
the  remainder  of  the  day  should  be  consumed  in  a 
cautious  hunt  for  game,  and  a  short  cut  taken  the 
following  morning  that  would  bring  the  scouts  across 
the  trail  of  the  slower-moving  part  of  the  Indian  band. 
It  had  been  decided  to  deal  with  that  portion  of  the 
enemy  first  to  prevent  any  flank  attack  upon  their  own 
party.  By  Philip's  earnest  request,  Juan  omitted  all 
mention  of  the  white  captive  they  had  seen,  for  Philip 
desired  to  communicate  this  to  El  Estranjero  privately 
and  with  him  plan  her  rescue. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WOODLAND    ADVENTURES 

Philip  and  Juan  remained  in  camp,  to  make  up  the 
sleep  they  had  lost  in  the  night  tramp.  Sometime  in 
the  afternoon,  Juan  was  awakened  by  the  sharp  squall 
of  a  wild-cat,  in  a  tree  near  by.  He  softly  reached  for 
his  gun  and  crept  under  the  tree  harboring  the  cat. 
He  manceuvered  for  some  minutes  trying  to  get  a 
position  that  would  give  him  a  good  view  of  the  animal 
for  a  sure  shot,  but  the  branches  so  intercepted  his 
sight  that  he  had  passed  several  times  around  the  tree 
before  he  saw  an  opening  for  his  aim. 

Stepping  back  a  pace  or  two  to  bring  the  animal 
into  still  better  view,  his  gun  struck  against  an  over 
hanging  limb  from  which  dangled  a  hornet's  nest, 
occupied  by  a  very  lively  family  of  the  insects,  which 
actively  resented  this  intrusion.  After  a  few  of  them 
had  made  Juan  feel  their  resentment,  he  forgot  all 
about  the  wild-cat,  and  with  a  yell  he  started  for  the 
stream,  followed  by  a  cloud  of  hornets  that  stimulated 
his  sprinting.  Every  jump  was  accompanied  by  a  yell  f$-M.  \. 
that  made  the  woods  ring,  and  Philip,  roused  from  his 
slumber  and  seeing  the  nature  of  the  accident,  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  made  for  a  place  of  safety,  while! 
Juan,  the  air  around  his  head  black  with  hornets,  wildly 
dashed  into  the  stream,  cast  himself  face  downward! 

[101] 


102 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


in  it,  and  wallowed  in  the  black  mud,  but  not  before 
he  had  plunged  through  a  nest  of  polecats  lying 
between  two  great  logs,  and  their  displeasure  also  was 
vented  upon  him. 

It  was  fully  half  an  hour  before  Philip  dared  to 
return  to  camp  and  move  the  pack  and  the  horse  a 
few  hundred  feet  farther  up  the  stream.  A  little  later 
Juan,  a  sorry  spectacle,  his  head  and  face  roughened 
like  a  nutmeg  grater  from  the  stings,  the  pain  of 
which,  however,  had  been  assuaged  by  his  plunge  into 
the  black  mud,  again  presented  himself  dripping, 
odorous,  and  woe-begone  in  camp. 

Luckily  there  was  a  spare  shirt  and  pair  of 
trousers  in  Philip's  pack.  Juan  donned  these,  and 
officiated  at  the  burial  of  his  former  garments,  and 
when  Philip  told  the  tale  at  the  camp  fire  that  night, 
he  sat  by  grinning  delightedly  as  that  sprightly 
young  gentleman  related  to  the  laughing  company  how 
Juan  had  broken  the  record  for  high  jumping  and 
short  sprinting. 

In  the  gray  of  the  morning  of  the  day  after  Juan's 
adventure,  the  camp  was  awakened  by  the  restless 
stamping  and  snorting  of  the  tethered  pack  horse.  It 
was  so  dark  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  that  it  was  at 
first  thought  that  the  savages  had  discovered  the  camp 
and  were  stealing  upon  them  with  the  intention  of 
killing  or  capturing  them  while  they  were  asleep. 

Instantly  every  man  was  on  the  alert  with  rifle  in 
hand,  ready  for  any  emergency.  All  crept  behind 


'He  now  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  himself." — Page  103 


WOODLAND  ADVENTUEES          103 

trees  and  logs,  away  from  the  dull  glow  of  the  camp 
fire  and  made  ready  for  the  attack. 

They  waited  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  breathless 
silence,  and  then  a  low  growl  from  the  store  of  meat 
the  hunters  had  brought  in  the  night  before  convinced 
them  that  the  disturbance  was  caused  by  something 
other  than  Indians. 

Philip  crawled  to  where  the  horse  was  tethered  and 
soon  located  the  disturbance  and  learned  its  cause.  The 
attraction  was  the  venison,  and  the  thief  some  animal 
not  yet  distinguishable,  owing  to  the  dark  shadows 
of  the  trees. 

From  where  he  stood  Philip  could  plainly  hear  the 
thief  tearing  the  flesh  and  crunching  the  bones  of 
the  deer,  which  had  been  hung,  as  all  supposed,  out 
of  reach  of  any  prowling  animal. 

While  he  could  hear  the  brute  he  could  not,  try  as 
he  might,  catch  sight  of  it.  He  was  satisfied  that  the 
animal  could  both  see  and  hear  him,  as  he  now  made 
no  attempt  to  conceal  himself,  but  it  was  not  suffi 
ciently  frightened  to  abandon  an  early  breakfast,  which 
it  seemed  to  be  enjoying  with  prodigious  appetite. 

El  Estranjero  now  came  to  Philip's  side,  wondering 
why  the  young  man  had  not  discharged  his  rifle. 

"You  needn't  be  so  cautious,"  said  he  with  a  laugh. 
"This  varmint  is  busy  with  his  breakfast,  and  will  pay 
no  attention  to  you  or  to  any  one  else  until  he  gets 
enough.  He  knows  we  are  here,  but  will  no  more 
give  up  that  meat  than  a  politician  will  resign  an  office  ; 
with  a  fat  salary.  I  think  we'll  have  to  say  good-bye  J 


104  EL  ESTRANJEKG 

to  about  one-half  of  that  deer,  whicn  I  very  much 
regret." 

"Isn't  it  possible  for  you  to  get  a  shot?'*  questioned 
Estranjero. 

"No,"  replied  Philip,  "I  can't  see  him  yet  It's 
growing  light,  however,  and  I'll  soon  have  my  chance." 

"A  lion?"  asked  El  Estranjero. 

"I  don't  know  yet,  but  I  think  you've  guessed  right." 

"Now,"  said  Philip,  a  few  minutes  later.  "Now, 
I  can  just  barely  see  him,  and  if  I'm  not  mistaken  it 
is  a  mountain  lion,  and  a  big  one,  too." 

"Be  careful,"  warned  Estranjero.  "Those  animals 
are  very  dangerous  when  wounded." 

The  words  had  hardly  been  uttered  when  the  crack 
of  Philip's  rifle  warned  Estranjero  that  his  caution 
had  been  spoken  too  late.  The  lion  fell  a  few  feet, 
caught  upon  a  lower  limb  of  the  same  tree,  and  with 
a  snarl  bounded  straight  for  Philip,  landing  fairly 
on  his  shoulders,  bearing  him  with  terrific  force  to 
the  ground. 

El  Estranjero  was  aiming  almost  before  Philip 
struck  the  earth,  and  a  well-directed  shot  relaxed  the 
beast's  hold  as  he  tumbled  off  in  his  death  agony, 
Philip  springing  up  unhurt  and  seeking  a  safe  place 
from  which  he  could  watch  the  foe  that  had  brought 
death  so  near  to  him. 

He  was  very  white  about  the  lips  when  he  reached 
out  a  trembling  hand  to  Estranjero. 

"See  here,  old  man,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  a  trifle 


WOODLAND  ADVENTUEES 


105 


unsteady,  "you  saved  my  life.     I  hope  I  can  do  some 
thing  some  day  to  show  you  I  appreciate  it." 

"I  thank  God  I  could  do  it,"  said  Estranjero,  and 
as  he  turned  away  his  heart  added  the  words,  "Thank 
God  I  was  here  to  save  you  for  her." 


CHAPTER  XIX 


THE    FIGHT    AT    CRAFTON 

The  rare  October  day  had  closed  with  a  sunset 
gorgeous  with  color.  Alice  leaned  over  the  gate  that 
opened  into  the  meadow,  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
distant  mountains.  Against  the  purple  where  the 
range  melted  to  the  valley,  she  imagined  she  saw 
in  another  tint.  She  watched  it ;  yes  it  was  dust.  Some 
one  was  riding  fast  toward  the  pueblo. 

Her  father  strolled  toward  her,  smoking  his  evening 
pipe,  and  the  two  idly  watched  the  approaching  rider. 
It  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  they  first  sighted 
him  before  it  became  apparent  that  he  had  now  struck 
off  from  the  main  road  and  was  riding  straight  for 
the  place  where  they  stood. 

Alice's  prophetic  heart  gave  warning  that  this  man 
was  the  bearer  of  tidings.  What  were  they?  Did 
he  come  to  tell  of  the  death  of  Philip?  Did  he  come 
with  news  of  El  Estranjero?  Was  it  some  one  whom 
Manuel  and  Marco  had  met  and  sent  with  news? 

All  these  questions  surged  through  her  mind  as  she 
stood  waiting.  Her  father  had  passed  through  the 
gate  and  was  striding  to  meet  the  rider,  who  had 
stopped  and  dismounted,  and  with  eager  gestures  was 
imparting  something,  his  horse  standing  with  rein 
dropped  over  his  neck,  panting  by  his  side.  A  few 
words,  and  then  the  stranger  took  his  horse's  rein, 


Were  herding  the  cattle  up  the  mountain." — Page  107 


THE  FIGHT  AT  CRAFTON  107 

and  walking  by  Holcomb's  side,  approached  the  gate, 
eagerly  talking  as  he  came  and  as  eagerly  heard. 

When  he  came  near,  Alice  recognized  him  as  one 
of  the  members  of  the  expedition  that  had  now  been 
gone  for  many  days.  It  was  the  man  El  Estranjero 
had  sent  back  with  the  lame  pack  animal.  He  had  left 
it  safe  with  a  cattleman  upon  the  mountain,  borrowed 
a  swift  horse  of  him,  and  warning  the  settlers  as  he 
passed  of  the  impending  raid  upon  Crafton,  had  now 
arrived  at  his  journey's  end.  No  time  must  be  lost 
if  the  Indians  were  to  be  frustrated,  and  Holcomb 
bade  good-bye  to  his  daughter  and  rode  posthaste  to 
assemble  the  cowboys. 

The  Indians  that  had  been  sent  to  the  valley  below 
had  gone  to  the  foot  of  the  trail  at  Cajon  Pass,  and 
turning  to  the  east,  skirted  the  foot  of  the  mountains 
to  Highlands,  and  thence  to  Crafton.  Rounding  up  a 
herd  of  twenty-five  steers  before  the  settlers  had  dis 
covered  their  raid,  they  started  to  return  to  the,/a 
mountain  by  the  trail,  the  same  which  to-day  is  a  wide 
and  beautiful  road  with  an  easy  grade,  leading  to 
Bear  Valley. 

They  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  trail,  and  just  as 
the  first  streak  of  dawn  appeared  in  the  sky  were 
heading  the  cattle  up  the  mountain.  For  several 
minutes  the  cattle  had  shown  signs  of  uneasiness. 
Now  they  stopped,  snorted,  threw  up  their  heads,  and 
refused  to  budge  another  inch. 

Supposing  they  were  frightened  by  a  wild  animal, 
the  Indians  behind  them  swung  their  arms  and 


108  EL  ESTEANJEEO 

yelled  to  them,  determined  to  force  them  past  the  place 
quickly.  Suddenly  from  the  brush  at  the  side  of  the 
trail  there  rang  out  the  sharp  report  of  a  score  of  rifles, 
and  with  it  the  terrifying  yell  of  as  many  mounted 
cowboys,  Holcomb  riding  at  their  head.  With  a  swirl 
and  a  rush  the  steers  turned  and  were  off  down  the 
mountain  in  a  stampede  that  brushed  aside  or  tram 
pled  underfoot  the  savages,  and  were  soon  out  of  sight 
in  the  direction  of  their  pasture  at  Crafton. 

Before  the  Indians  could  recover,  the  cowboys  were 
upon  them,  pursuing  them  hither  and  thither  as  they 
sought  shelter  in  the  brush,  exterminating  every  one, 
not  even  sparing  the  wounded. 

This  fighting  of  the  Indians  was  no  child's  play, 
and  no  false  sentimentality  was  shown  on  the  part  of 
the  cowboys,  a  class  not  much  given  to  sentimentality 
at  any  time. 

They  did,  however,  bury  the  dead  across  the  river 
at  a  place  known  to  this  day  as  "Crafton  Retreat;" 
but  the  burial  was  not  sentiment,  either,  and  there 
were  few  of  the  whites  who  participated  in  that  fight 
who  did  not  bear  away  from  the  field  some  weapon 
or  other  memento,  and  keep  it  among  their  treasures 
and  bequeath  it  to  their  descendants. 

When  the  burial  was  over,  Holcomb  rode  again  to 
his  home.  He  knew  Alice  would  be  filled  with 
Anxiety  for  his  safety,  and  he  himself  was  anxious  for 
Further  news  from  El  Estranjero's  party. 


CHAPTER  XX 


A  TALE  OF  THE  FRONTIER 

It  was  again  evening  and  Holcomb  smoked  his 
pipe,  sitting  upon  his  favorite  seat  on  the  veranda. 
Alice  was  beside  him  in  a  low  chair,  her  cheeks  flushed 
with  eager  interest,  her  shining  eyes  upon  her  father's 
face. 

"Oh,  Daddy,"  she  said,  squeezing  one  of  his  hands 
in  both  of  hers,  "I  wish  I  were  a  man  like  Philip,  then 
I  could  ride  with  you  and  hunt  and  fight.  Daddy,  it's 
a  misfortune  to  be  a  woman  and  sit  at  home  while 
such  great  things  are  happening." 

Holcomb  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "Well,  Alice, 
it  surely  can't  be  much  of  a  misfortune  to  be  such  a 
pretty  woman  as  you  are!  I  tell  you,  my  girl,  you 
are  nearly  as  good  looking  as  your  mother  was  at  your 
age."  His  voice  softened  as  it  always  did  when  he 
spoke  of  his  dead  wife,  "and  you  are  like  her,  Alice." 

"But,  Daddy,  you  have  heard  many  a  woman  wish 
she  was  a  man,  haven't  you?" 

"That's  a  fact,  Alice.  They  begin  with  that  wish 
when  they  are  little  girls  and  think  it  a  shame  that 
they  weren't  born  boys,  so  they  can  race  and  climb 
and  swim  and  run  like  their  brothers." 

"Well,  Daddy,  did  you  ever  hear  any  boy  wish  he 
was  a  girl,  or  any  man  wish  he  was  a  woman  ?" 


110 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


"Can't  say  that  I  ever  did,  daughter.  No,  I  know 
that  I  never  did." 

'Talk,  Daddy,  tell  me  some  more  about  the  fight." 

"But  I  have  told  it  to  you,  Alice,  once  this  morning, 
when  we  were  at  breakfast,  and  again  this  evening." 

"You're  sure  you  haven't  left  out  anything?" 

"Not  a  thing." 

"Then,  Daddy,  you  tell  me  the  story  I  used  to  like 
when  I  was  a  little  girl,  the  story  about  the  buffaloes." 

"What  a  child  you  are,  for  a  grown  woman,  Alice." 

"I  wish  I  were  a  child,"  said  Alice,  as  her  mind 
reverted  to  her  secret  love  and  disappointment.  "I 
wish  I  were  a  freckled-faced,  long-legged  girl  again, 
Daddy.  Pretend  I  am  now,  and  tell  me  my  story." 

She  slipped  one  of  his  sturdy  arms  about  her  and 
cuddled  close  to  him  like  a  child,  her  golden  head  upon 
his  breast.  Sitting  thus,  while  he  puffed  occasionally 
at  his  pipe,  Holcomb  told  her  this  story. 

"I  was  traveling  through  New  Mexico,  nearly  on 
the  line  of  what  was  afterward  called  The  Santa  Fe 
Trail/  in  the  region  sometimes  called  'the  buffalo  hunt/ 
owing  to  the  numerous  herds  of  bison  that  annually 
roamed  these  plains  when  the  deep  snows  of  the  north 
would  drive  them  to  a  milder  climate,  where  it  was 
easier  for  them  to  get  at  the  grass. 

"By  those  acquainted  with  the  habits  of  the  buffalo, 
it  is  well  known  that  they  often  winter  in  regions 
covered  with  snow,  even  to  the  depth  of  several  feet, 
not  seeming  to  feel  the  cold,  finding  their  food  by  paw 
ing  away  the  snow  to  uncover  the  dried  grass  beneath. 


A  TALE  OF  THE  FRONTIEE         111 


"This  is  not  difficult  for  these  hardy  animals  when 
the  snow  falls  dry  and  light  during  dry  winters  or 
winters  of  continuous  cold  weather,  but  when  there  is 
a  season  of  alternate  heat  and  cold,  and  the  snow 
alternately  melts  and  freezes,  there  is  formed  a  glaze 
of  ice  over  the  surface  of  the  ground,  or  a  crust  of 
snow  so  thick  and  hard  as  to  be  almost  impenetrable, 
and  then  the  buffalo  often  wears  his  hoof  to  the  very 
quick,  digging  for  grass,  leaving  a  trail  of  blood  on 
the  snow  as  he  travels  from  point  to  point. 

"In  such  seasons  the  herds  would  roam  about  in 
countless  thousands  and  almost  denude  the  plains  of 
their  rich  grasses,  so  when  they  returned  north  in  the 
spring  they  left  a  country  barren  and  uninviting. 

"It  was  after  one  of  these  winters  of  alternate 
freezing  and  thawing  that  John  Marshall  and  I  were 
traveling  west,  as  I  have  said.  We  had  noticed 
many  large  bunches  of  buffalo  on  every  side,  when  our 
journey  brought  us  to  a  very  abrupt  rise  of  ground. 

"This  butte,  or  hill,  towered  up  sheer  out  of  the 
plain,  and  was  so  steep  that  it  was  somewhat  difficult 
to  scale  it,  but  after  some  reconnoitering  we  determined 
to  make  the  top  of  this  hill  our  camping  place,  if  we 
could  get  our  horses  up  the  ascent. 

"This,  after  some  trouble,  we  succeeded  in  doing, 
and  found  a  much  better  camping  ground  than  we  had 
reason  to  expect,  plenty  of  grass  for  our  horses  and 
some  small  trees  and  shrubs  for  a  camping  spot. 

"Here  we  built  our  fire,  cooked  our  coffee  and  meat 
for  the  meal  and  turned  in  for  a  night's  good  sound 


112 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


sleep.  Being  both  young  and  healthy  we  slept  so 
soundly  that  time  was  annihilated  and  the  sun  was 
shining  when  we  opened  our  eyes  and  realized  that  it 
was  morning.  We  prepared  and  ate  our  breakfast 
and,  while  smoking  an  after-breakfast  pipe,  sat  looking 
lazily  across  the  plain  below,  over  which  we  could  see 
for  a  long  distance  on  every  side. 

"Suddenly  young  Marshall  went  to  his  camp  outfit 
and  taking  out  a  field  glass  gazed  long  and  earnestly, 
then  handing  it  to  me,  asked  me  to  look  in  a  westerly 
direction. 

"  'I  can  see/  said  he,  'two  prairie  schooners,  three 
or  four  men  and  some  women  and  children  who  are 
just  getting  under  way  for  their  western  journey. 
For  the  life  of  me  I  cannot  understand  how  they  dare 
camp  out  in  the  open,  unprotected  from  these  herds 
of  wild  buffaloes.' 

"I  took  the  glass  and  could  easily  see  the  camp  with 
all  of  its  outfit,  and  was  about  to  return  the  glass  when 
I  was  attracted  by  a  moving  cloud  far  away  to  the 
north,  and  could  just  discern  a  moving  mass  under 
this  cloud  which  proved  to  be  dust.  I  gazed  long  and 
earnestly  at  the  mass,  trying  to  note  the  direction 
it  was  taking ;  for  too  well  I  knew  that  it  was  a  wild 
buffalo  stampede  such  as  is  often  mentioned  by  the  old 
buffalo  hunters,  and  which  I  had  before  witnessed  on 
several  occasions.  Returning  the  glass  to  young 
'.  Marshall  I  asked  him  to  look  in  that  direction  and  tell 
what  he  saw. 

"He  took  the  glass  and  then  almost  immediately 


A  TALE  OF  THE  FRONTIER         113 

exclaimed,  'they  are  buffaloes  in  thousands,  bearing 
down  directly  on  that  camp.  It  will  be  annihilated.' 

"  'Can  we  help  them/  I  asked. 

"  'No,'  was  his  reply,  'the  buffaloes  will  be  upon 
them  before  we  could  get  half  way  there,  unless  they 
swerve  to  one  side  and  leave  the  camp  unmolested, 
which  God  grant  may  be  the  case.' 

"From  this  time  on  we  watched  the  swiftly  moving 
mass  and  prayed  that  they  would  go  to  one  side  of 
the  camp  apparently  doomed  to  awful  destruction. 
Up  to  this  time  the  campers  seemingly  had  not  dis 
covered  their  danger.  This  was  strange,  for  at  our 
distance  we  could  hear  the  awful  thundering  of  the 
hoofs  of  the  buffaloes  and  the  ominous  sound  already 
struck  a  chill  to  our  hearts  that  seemed  like  that  of 
death. 

"Again  taking  the  glass,  young  Marshall  discerned 
that  the  campers  had  seen  their  peril  and  were  now 
hurrying  desperately  to  get  out  of  the  track  of  that 
dreadful  mass. 

"  'Too  late,  too  late,'  he  cried,  'God  help  them,  no 
one  else  can!'  and  throwing  himself  upon  the  ground 
he  cried  as  though  his  heart  would  break. 

"I  took  the  glass  just  in  time  to  see  two  or  three 
of  the  leading  buffalo  bulls  darting  through  the  camp 
between  the  wagons,  and  in  an  instant  two  or  three 
more,  then  a  bunch  knocked  down  a  woman  and  ran 
over  a  child,  then  a  wagon  was  slewed  around  and 
overturned,  then  thousands  of  them  poured  over  and 
through  the  camp  until  nothing  remained  in  sight 


114  EL  ESTRANJEKO 

but  one  great  turbulent,  rushing,  relentless  tide,  the 
impulse  of  which  carried  death  and  destruction  and 
left  no  sign  or  trace. 

"Every  human  being,  animal,  wagon,  all  of  the 
clothing,  cooking  utensils  and  camp  equipment  of  every 
nature  and  description  had  disappeared  so  effectually 
that  not  a  bone,  rag,  stick,  or  piece  of  material  could 
be  seen  in  any  direction. 

"After  this  vast  herd  had  passed,  we  saddled  our 
horses  and  proceeded  upon  our  journey  across  the 
plain,  passing  over  the  ground  where  the  camp  had 
been,  but  there  remained  only  absolute  desolation. 
Now  when  I  hear  any  one  express  a  fear  that  the 
buffalo  will  become  extinct,  it  calls  to  my  mind  that 
scene,  and  banishes  from  my  thoughts  any  desire  to 
perpetuate  that  species  of  animal." 

Holcomb  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and  arose. 
Alice  stood  beside  him  still  clinging  to  his  arm. 

"That's  a  good  story,  Daddy,  and  you  told  it  just 
as  you  used  to."  She  \vas  silent  a  moment  as  they 
stood  with  arms  entwined  looking  out  into  the  night. 
Finally  she  said,  half  timidly,  "Daddy,  do  you  think 
everything  is  right  with  Philip  and  El  Estranjero? 
Why  do  they  not  come  back  ?  They  intended  to  scout 
only,  did  they  not,  to  find  out  what  direction  the 
savages  had  gone,  and  how  many  there  were?  Don't 
you  think  they  ought  to  be  back  by  this  time?" 

"You're  anxious  about  Philip?  Well,  my  little  girl, 
so  am  I.  If  I  don't  hear  from  them  before  this  time 
to-morrow  night,  I  shall  go  after  them.  I  can  take 


A  TALE  OF  THE  FRONTIER         115 

Jose,  and  Gardiner,  the  man  who  has  returned  with 
the  pack  horse,  will  go  with  us." 

"Oh,  Daddy,  let  me  go  too,  I  would  love  to  go,  and 
I  do  hate  staying  here  alone  and  thinking  and 
worrying." 

"No,  Alice,  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of,"  replied 
Holcomb. 

Alice  came  to  a  swift  decision.  She  had  always 
been  a  headstrong  child,  and  she  was  now  a  headstrong 
woman,  and  as  perfectly  fearless  as  Philip  or  Juan. 
She  would  say  no  more  about  going,  but  would  wait 
till  her  father  was  well  on  his  way,  and  then  she 
would  come  up  with  him  when  he  had  gone  too  far 
either  to  come  back  or  send  her  back  alone.  With 
this  determination  in  her  mind,  she  kissed  her  father 
good  night  and  went  to  her  chamber,  where  upon  her 
white  bed  she  tossed  for  half  the  night,  thinking  of 
El  Estranjero  and  praying  for  his  safety. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A   DESERT    TRAGEDY 

While  these  events  were  transpiring,  Manuel  and 
Marco  with  their  two  horses  laden  with  the  empty 
water  casks,  had  made  their  way  to  the  little  cienega 
about  a  mile  from  the  point  where  the  Pah-Ute  trail 
led  across  the  desert  to  Nevada. 

The  two  Indians  had  been  on  many  a  prospecting 
trip  in  this  waste  with  their  master,  and  knew  every 
landmark  as  well  as  did  the  Pah-Utes  themselves. 
They  had  rested  for  a  few  hours  at  a  point  where  they 
could  see  every  object  for  miles  desertward,  and  where 
also  they  could  command  a  view  of  the  point  from 
which  their  friends  would  come,  although,  such  good 
time  had  they  made  in  their  trip,  they  knew  it  was 
more  than  forty-eight  hours  too  early  to  expect  even 
the  band  of  Indians  who  were  to  come  over  the 
mountains. 

As  they  lay  there  Manuel  saw  afar  upon  the  desert 
a  moving  black  speck.  It  came  nearer  and  nearer,  both 
Indians  watching  with  the  greatest  interest.  Soon  it 
resolved  itself  into  the  shape  of  a  burro,  and  his  mas 
ter,  if  he  had  any,  must  be  walking  far  behind,  for 
they  could  not  see  him.  As  the  burro  came  nearer, 
they  saw  that  he  was  laden  with  one  large  water  cask 
and  two  small  ones,  and  was  trailing  a  tie-rope  behind 
him. 

[116] 


The  Mojave  Desert 


A  DESERT  TRAGEDY  117 

The  Indians  knew  from  the  actions  of  the  beast  that 
he  smdled  the  water  and  grass  of  the  cienega,  for  he 
broke  into  a  trot  as  he  came  nearer,  although  he  was 
gaunt  with  starvation. 

They  had  no  trouble  in  catching  the  beast  as  he 
drank  from  the  little  stream  that  bubbled  up  in  the 
cienega,  and  found  that  the  casks  it  carried  were  full. 

"Madre  De  Dios,"  Manuel  said  to  his  companion; 
"he  is  a  stray  from  some  camp  and  he  carries  the 
water.  That  means  death  to  his  owner.  Have  we 
yet  time?" 

"The  Utes  cannot  arrive  for  at  least  two  days," 
replied  Marco,  "and  our  people  a  half  day  later.  We 
will  take  the  casks  and  empty  them,  fill  them  with 
fresh  water  and  turn  the  burro  loose;  if  the  Utes  see 
him,  they  will  think  him  a  stray  from  some  mining 
camp.  Our  own  casks  we  will  hide  in  the  brush,  for 
there  surely  can  be  only  two  or  three  men,  and  we  can 
go  only  one  day's  journey  to  look  for  them.  Water 
for  two  days  we  will  take  for  the  horse,  for  ourselves, 
and  for  them." 

"We  will  take  our  own  casks,  also,"  said  Manuel. 
"For  if  the  Utes  should  by  chance  find  them,,  they 
would  know  that  here  was  a  rendezvous  and  they 
would  destroy  them,.  We  will  fill  them,  for  who  can, 
say  how  much  we  will  need,  and  it  is  better  to  have 
too  much  than  too  little  water  on  the  desert." 

It  took  the  Indians  only  a  short  time  to  prepare  for 
the  start  and  they  had  no  difficulty  in  following  the 
trail.  It  was  a  clear  night,  and  as  long  as  they  could 


118 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


see  the  track  they  followed,  camping  at  last  when  they 
could  no  longer  safely  trail,  and  again  upon  the  way 
with  the  first  daylight  of  the  next  morning,  for  they 
knew  that  it  was  a  case  of  life  and  death,  which  might 
be  decided  adversely  for  one  hour's  delay. 

The  burro,  while  lank  with  starvation,  had  never 
theless  been  able  to  reach  the  cienega,  and  they  had 
great  hopes  of  being  able  to  find  the  camp  from  which 
it  had  strayed  in  time  to  save  the  lives  of  those  who 
might  have  been  its  owners. 

They  knew  well  that  a  burro  can  exist  almost  as 
long  as  a  camel  without  a  drop  of  water,  so  that  its 
presence  and  condition  were  no  index  of  how  long 
it  might  have  endured  thirst  before  finding  water. 

They  hurried  along  as  fast  as  was  possible  in  the 
cool  of  the  day,  and  they  hoped  to  find  the  camp  safe 
at  the  first  water-hole.  Although  it  was  late  October, 
the  heat  upon  the  desert  was  so  intense  that  they  were 
obliged  to  halt  in  the  middle  of  the  day  to  rest  and 
feed  the  horse  and  refresh  themselves. 

They  hung  a  blanket  across  two  cactus  bushes  and 
made,  a  partial  shade  for  themselves  and  the  horse, 
and  scraping  away  the  hot  surface,  lay  down  upon  the 
ground  and  slept  for  a  couple  of  hours. 

Much  revived,  they  again  took  up  the  trail  and 
arrived  at  the  first  water-hole  late  in  the  afternoon. 
There  they  made  the  discovery  that  the  burro  had 
ed  his  thirst  at  the  spring,  and  had  been  close 
to  it  for  some  time,  as  the  sand  was  much  trampled 
here,  and  they  found  where  he  had  lain. 


,g|  quench( 

• .   f 


A  DESERT  TRAGEDY  119 

The  failure  to  find  any  other  track  but  that  of  the 
burro  was  a  disappointment  to  the  two  Indians,  but 
it  inspired  them  to  push  on.  It  was  ten  o'clock  at 
night  when  they  reached  the  second  water-hole,  and 
they  waited  for  the  moon  to  rise,  to  take  up  the  trail. 
The  wind  blew  cool,  and  it  was  as  light  as  day  when 
the  moon  finally  arose,  and  by  its  light  the  Indians  saw 
that  here  the  burro  had  caught  the  dragging  rope 
upon  a  bush,  and  by  making  a  wide  circuit  around  the 
water-hole  they  saw  that  he  had  dragged  the  shrub 
round  and  round  the  water-hole,  evidently  thinking 
he  was  staked,  but  when  he  had  at  last  freed  himself 
from  it,  had  made  a  bee  line  for  the  next  spring. 
Around  the  trampled  circle  which  he  had  made  were 
scattered  cans  of  vegetables  and  other  provender  which 
the  burro  had  shaken  from  his  pack  and  which  were 
spoiled  by  the  action  of  the  sun. 

Still  the  two  Indians  could  discover  no  tracks  of  a 
man,  and  now,  being  convinced  that  the  owners  of  the 
burro  had  lost  their  stock  of  food  as  well  as  their 
supply  of  water  by  the  straying  of  the  animal,  they 
knew  their  case  was  desperate,  but  the  moonlight  was 
too  uncertain  for  good  trailing,  and  so  they  waited  for 
morning  to  take  up  the  track. 

As  soon  as  it  was  light  enough  to  follow  they  struck 
out,  finding  the  trail  of  the  animal  and  following  it 
for  about  five  miles. 

Here  Manuel's  sharp  eyes  detected,  about  half  a 
mile  to  the  right,  lying  upon  the  sand  something  that 

was  not  a  dried  cactus  shrub.     It  might  be  the  carcas 

— I5§gg— * 


120  EL  ESTKANJEKO 

of  some  dead  animal,  but  the  two  trailers  decided  to 
investigate. 

It  was  the  body  of  a  man,  who  had  been  dead  for 
some  days.  By  his  side  was  an  empty  tin  can  with 
which  he  had  attempted  to  dig  a  hole  in  the  sand 
to  escape  from  the  burning  sun.  Following  his  zig 
zag  trail  a  mile  or  two  they  came  upon  the  body  of 
another.  There  was  now  little  hope  of  finding  any  one 
else,  but  there  might  still  be  some  poor  fellow  crazed 
with  thirst  and  hunger,  lying  under  some  rock  or 
shrub,  and  so  the  patient  Indians  took  up  the  trail  of 
the  two  men.  They  found  that  one  had  apparently 
carried  the  other,  sitting  down  frequently  to  rest. 
Then  he  had  half-dragged  him,  the  weaker  stumbling 
along  a  few  rods,  then  falling,  then  up  again  and  on 
for  a  few  feet,  then  down  and  crawling  along  on  his 
hands  and  knees. 

The  stronger  had  then  gone  on  alone,  and  the 
weaker  with  his  bare  hands  had  dug  deep  into  the 
sand,  wearing  his  fingers  to  the  bone  in  the  agonized 
search  for  water,  before  he  died  the  terrible  death  the 
treacherous  desert  has  in  store  for  the  wanderer. 

Satisfied  now  that  the  strangers  they  had  come  to 
help  were  all  beyond  the  reach  of  succor,  the  Indians 
turned  back  and,  moving  as  swiftly  as  possible,  by 
noon  were  again  at  the  second  water-hole. 

Resting  here  for  a  couple  of  hours  they  reached 
the  first  water-hole  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening  made  a  rapid  return  to  the  cienega. 
They  caught  the  burro  and  tethered  it  in  a  secluded 


A  DESERT  TRAGEDY 


121 


place  unlikely  to  be  discovered  by  any  prowling 
savage,  and  hiding  their  own  wearied  horse  in  the 
same  manner,  they  bedded  themselves  in  the  brush  as 
comfortably  as  though  they  were  denizens  of  the  wild. 


CHAPTER   XXII 


IN  THE  PASS 

Philip  and  El  Estranjero  were  scouting  together. 
The  little  party  had  followed  the  retreat  of  the  most 
slowly  moving  and  largest  of  the  savage  bands  in  the 
direction  of  Cajon  Pass,  and  it  was  here  that  the 
woodsmen,  having  disposed  their  little  force  to  the 
best  advantage,  expected  to  ambush  them  and  thus 
prevent  their  joining  the  chief,  who  with  the  body  of 
ten  warriors  was  to  wait  at  the  Mojave  for  the  return 
of  his  raiders  with  the  beef-steers. 

They  were  resting  after  a  hard  climb  over  rocks  and 
fallen  trees,  for  it  was  necessary  to  take  the  shortest 
route  to  the  Pass,  if  they  would  intercept  the  band, 
who  must  go  by  the  easier  way  because  of  their 
wounded. 

"El  Estranjero,"  said  Philip,  "come  sit  here  for  a 
moment,  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  We  are  going 
into  this  fight,  nobody  knows  who  may  be  killed.  I 
want  to  tell  you  something,  so  that  should  anything 
happen  to  me  you  will  know." 

Estranjero  drew  a  quick  breath  and  set  his  teeth 
shard.  "It  was  a  strange  freak  of  Fate,"  he  thought, 
'that  Alice's  lover  should  be  about  to  confess  to  him 
[his  love  for  the  only  woman  in  the  world  he  himself 
could  ever  love.  He  had  been  obliged  to  bear  many 

[122] 


IN  THE  PASS  123 

hard  things  of  late,  but  this  surely  was  the  hardest. 
Yet  what  could  he  do,  Philip  was  his  friend,  and 
friendship  too,  has  its  claims.'* 

"Philip,"  he  said,  looking  the  young  man  bravely 
in  the  eyes,  "you  will  come  out  of  this  unharmed.  I 
will  see  to  it  that  any  danger  must  first  pass  me  to 
reach  you." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  rejoined  Philip.  "Don't  think 
for  a  minute  that  I  need  any  such  protection.  But 
accidents  are  likely  to  happen,  and  a  woman's  safety 
and  happiness  depends  upon  me  now." 

El  Estranjero  gave  him  a  surprised  glance. 

"Her  safety  and  happiness,  Philip?  She  is  safe 
with  her  father,  I  have  no  doubt,  but  her  happiness, 
well,  yes,  maybe  her  happiness." 

It  was  Philip's  turn  to  look  surprised.  "I  don't 
know  whom  you  have  in  mind;  of  course — "  he  began. 

"Was  it  not  Alice  of  whom  you  spoke?"  queried 
El  Estranjero. 

"Listen,"  said  Philip.  "There  is  a  white  woman,  a 
prisoner,  among  those  Indians  down  there,  a  young 
girl  not  over  seventeen,  and  she  must  be  recaptured 
at  all  hazards;  that  is  what  I  mean.  She  is  with  the 
other  party,  the  one  that  is  ahead  of  this,  but  we  must 
see  to  it  that  every  red  devil  of  this  bunch  gets  his 
dose  here,  for  there  must  be  no  warning  to  that  band 
ahead.  There  are  twenty  in  this  band,  we  know,  four 
wounded,  but  able  to  walk." 

Then  Philip  told  him  of  the  discovery  he  and  Juan 
had  made  and  his  earnest  desire  to  be  the  one 


124 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


should  rescue  the  captive  white  girl,  whose  beauty  had 
haunted  him  every  hour  since. 

"Ah,"  breathed  Estranjero,  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
when  he  had  finished.  "Now  I  understand  you.  Here 
comes  Juan  with  news." 

The  Indian  came  swiftly  to  the  spot  where  they  lay. 
"El  Senor,"  he  said,  "they  are  three  miles  below  us, 
and  traveling  slowly.  They  will  go  through  the  Pass, 
traveling  to  the  northwest  upon  the  desert  side,  and 
keeping  along  the  hills  to  be  near  water." 

"No,  Juan,"  said  El  Senor,  grimly.  "They  will  not 
travel  along  the  desert  side  of  the  hills  for  we  must 
exterminate  them,  every  one,  before  the  sun  is  two 
hours  higher.  Get  you  back,  Juan,  and  carry  this 
order  to  the  others.  Let  the  enemy  well  into  the  Pass, 
thea  when  you  hear  me  fire,  attack  and  give  no 
quarter." 

Philip  and  El  Estranjero  now  posted  themselves 
one  on  either  side  of  the  Pass,  within  good  range  of 
the  trail,  and  lay  silently  watching.  Unsuspicious  of 
danger,  the  Indians  at  last  made  their  appearance.  As 
they  had  come  so  far  they  evidently  believed  that  after 
the  encounter  in  which  their  companions  received  the 
wounds,  the  whites,  finding  so  large  a  band  of  the 
enemy  in  front  of  them,  had  returned  to  the  valley  for 
reinforcements,  and  before  these  could  arrive  they 
would  be  well  into  the  desert  upon  their  homeward 


The  crack  of  a  rifle  in  front  of  them  was  answered 
by  shots,  seemingly  from  behind  every  rock,  and  the 


< 


IN  THE  PASS  125 

Indians  broke  for  cover.  They  were  hotly  pursued, 
and  a  running  fight,  lasting  for  nearly  an  hour,  took 
place.  Two  of  the  white  men  were  wounded,  but 
neither  dangerously,  and  they  were  sent  back  to  the 
camp  at  Spring  Rock  while  the  others,  their  numbers 
now  reduced  to  seven,  pressed  on.  With  the  advantage 
of  ground  and  preparation,  they  were  able  to  hunt 
every  Indian  from  his  covert,  and  not  till  the  full  count 
of  twenty  was  made  did  they  desist,  knowing  there  was 
not  one  stray  Indian  left  to  carry  the  news  to  the  band 
in  advance. 

It  was  a  fight  without  mercy,  but  these  savages 
merited  little  pity  from  them,  and  as  even  a  wounded 
brave  can  be  a  dangerous  foe,  there  was  one  scout 
who  had  a  hard  enough  heart  to  kill  the  wounded 
Indians,  holding  that  it  was  more  merciful  to  end 
their  sufferings  than  to  leave  them  to  the  slow  torture 
of  pain  and  thirst  in  the  wilderness,  or  to  recover  to 
continue  their  work  of  pillage  and  murder. 

As  El  Estranjero  had  heard  no  news  from  the  valley, 
and  was  uncertain  what  had  been  the  outcome  of  the 
raid  of  the  Indian  band  at  Crafton,  it  was  decided  to 
push  on  with  the  utmost  speed  to  the  cienega  where 
they  had  appointed  to  meet  Marco  and  Manuel.  This  f 
would  give  them  two  pack  horses  with  which  to  fol 
low  the  Indians,  and  two  more  clever  scouts,  trailers 
and  good  shots,  to  take  part  in  the  campaign. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


THE    PURSUIT 

This  little  company  now  pressed  rapidly  onward, 
killing  by  the  way  venison  for  their  use,  and  traveling 
in  couples  as  they  had  since  the  beginning,  save  that 
now  two  guarded  the  pack  horse,  two  traveled  in  the 
van  and  two  in  the  rear,  while  Juan  scouted  far  ahead 
like  a  trained  hound,  returning  to  El  Estranjero  and 
Philip,  who  were  in  the  lead,  when  he  had  anything 
to  impart  to  them. 

Crossing  the  mountains,  they  skirted  the  range  on 
the  desert  side,  Juan  often  near  enough  to  the  chiefs 
band  to  hear  their  talk  about  their  camp  fire.  More 
than  once  Philip  lay  with  him  in  the  shelter  of  a  log 
or  boulder  and  feasted  his  eyes  upon  the  beauty  of 
the  white  captive.  His  thoughts  were  with  her  con 
stantly.  The  pathos  of  her  position,  the  tragedy  that 
he  knew  must  soon  touch  her  in  some  of  its  phases, 
her  own  tender  affection  for  the  chief,  to  whom  she 
|  always  spoke  as  father,  and  the  respect  with  which  he 
treated  her,  made  the  elements  of  a  romance  that  his 
youthful  fancy  constructed  about  her.  How  came  she 
to  be  among  them?  What  was  her  story? 

The  Indians  felt  such  security  that  they  kept  no 
guard  about  their  fire,  but  for  several  days  there  was 
no  opportunity  to  make  the  attack  without  injuring 
the  girl.  By  this  time  they  were  within  a  few  miles 


THE  PURSUIT 


127 


of  the  rendezvous  agreed  upon  between  the  party  and 
Manuel  and  Marco.  Estranjero  decided  that  to  use 
this  favorable  opportunity  to  attack  the  savages  would 
make  them  suspicious  and  travel  with  more  caution. 
Fearing  that  the  Indians  might  discover  they  were 
pursued,  or  that  the  horse  and  casks  and  perhaps 
Manuel  and  Marco  also  might  fall  into  their  hands 
if  they  learned  there  were  whites  in  the  vicinity,  they, 
therefore,  allowed  the  hostiles  to  approach  their  home 
trail,  while  they  themselves  halted  and  sent  Juan 
forward  to  locate  Manuel  and  Marco,  which  he  did 
without  difficulty  and  brought  them  into  camp,  their 
horse  and  the  burro  laden  with  freshly-filled  water 
casks,  and  both  themselves  and  the  animals  refreshed 
and  ready  for  travel. 

The  hostiles  also  halted  upon  the  edge  of  the  desert 
and  traveled  with  more  caution,  keeping  well  under 
cover,  but  Juan  had  no  difficulty  in  following  their 
movements. 

Had  he  been  following  Blackfeet,  Seminoles,  or 
Wyandottes,  or  any  of  the  savages  east  of  the  Rockies, 
he  would  have  had  more  trouble  in  deciphering  the 
signs.  These  Indians  travel  one  behind  the  other,  in 
"Indian  file,"  placing  their  feet  exactly  in  the  foot 
prints  of  the  marcher  ahead  of  them,  and  thus  being 
able  to  deceive  the  enemy  regarding  their  number 
as  well  as  to  preserve  silence  in  passing  through  a 
country  where  danger  might  lurk  for  them  in  the 
tangle  of  thick  woods  and  underbrush. 

This  method  of   travel  was   not   followed  by  the 


128 


EL  ESTKANJEKO 


Indians  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  and  desert  region, 
because  of  the  nature  of  the  country,  much  of  which 
is  treeless  and  their  movements  could  in  this  country 
be  followed  by  an  enemy  from  some  point  of  vantage. 

They  chose  to  separate,  each  man  for  himself, 
always  keeping  in  touch,  and  camping  together  at 
night.  The  chief  seemed  filled  with  anxiety  concern 
ing  the  cattle  raiders.  The  night  of  the  day  that  they 
reached  the  point  where  the  home  trail  began,  there 
was  another  council,  Juan,  skulking  in  the  bushes, 
being  an  interested  listener. 

It  was  decided  that  the  chief  with  the  girl  and  two 
chosen  braves,  should  travel  as  fast  as  possible  to  the 
Mojave.  That  the  remaining  seven  or  eight  warriors 
should  hunt  there  and  make  jerky  to  bring  forward  in 
case  the  raiding  band  was  unsuccessful,  and  that  after 
four  days  should  meet  the  advance  party  at  the  ren 
dezvous.  After  leaving  the  hills,  it  would,  of  course, 
be  impossible  to  subsist,  but  the  Indians  had  gathered 
acorns  and  made  it  into  bread,  and  they  had  some 
venison  that  had  been  slaughtered  on  the  way.  The 
little  party  with  the  girl  was  amply  provisioned,  as  the 
hunters  were  in  position  to  replenish  their  pouches. 

Philip  and  Estranjero  congratulated  themselves  that 
now  at  last  the  girl  was  about  to  be  separated  from 
the  main  band.  Of  course,  by  this  time,  her  presence 
\  among  the  Indians  was  known  to  the  whole  party,  who 
were  all  interested  in  her  safe  recapture. 

It  was  now  the  time  of  the  full  moon,  and  the  chief, 
soon  as  the  council  was  over,  gathered  his  little 


THE  PUKSUIT  129 

party  together  and  started  away  across  the  desert. 
From  their  places  of  "concealment  El  Estranjero  and 
Philip  watched  them  go,  and  Philip  with  a  sinking 
heart  wondered  if  by  any  chance  their  plans  would 
fail  and  the  girl  be  lost  to  him. 

He  said  in  his  heart  "lost  to  me"  because  day  by 
day  he  had  felt  his  heart  warm  to  her,  and  his  soul  go 
out  to  her. 

It  was  not  alone  her  beauty  and  her  helplessness,  but 
her  unconscious  dignity,  her  uncomplaining  endurance 
of  hardship,  her  feminine  delicacy  that  showed  itself 
even  amid  the  rudeness  of  her  surroundings  and  the 
savagery  of  her  companions.  He  felt  that  he  could 
follow  her  through  the  whole  world  if  he  could  but 
reclaim  her  at  last. 

With  a  reticence  unusual  to  him,  he  did  not  com 
municate  these  thoughts  to  El  Estranjero,  who  had 
no  inkling  of  their  nature,  and  supposed  that  Philip's 
interest  in  the  captive  was  of  the  same  chivalrous  kind 
that  he  himself  felt,  and  that  was  felt  by  every  man  in 
the  company. 

The  scouts  had  determined  to  attack  the  hunting 
band  early  in  the  morning,  but  long  before  it  was  light 
Philip,  lying  by  the  side  of  El  Estranjero,  awakened 
him  with  a  touch,  and  asked  him  to  let  him  and  Manuel 
follow  the  chief  and  his  comrades,  as  they  could  well 
be  spared  in  the  forthcoming  fight. 

He  was  so  earnest  in  his  plea  that  El  Estranjero 
consented,  and  so  they  stole  out  of  camp  and  were  lost 
to  view  behind  the  sand  hills  before  dawn. 


130  EL  ESTRANJEEO 

A  savage  hunter,  stealing  early  to  the  side  of  a  little 
streamlet,  found  in  the  soft  ooze  the  track  of  a  horse, 
and  the  sudden  scattering  of  the  band  upon  his  return 
to  their  camp,  informed  the  watchful  Juan  that  the 
presence  of  the  whites  was  discovered. 

The  projected  attack  thus  became  a  still  hunt,  and 
soon  the  sharp  crack  of  a  woodsman's  rifle  showed 
that  a  lurking  enemy  had  been  found.  For  many 
hours  there  was  now  a  desultory  battle,  but  the  long 
range  rifles  of  the  scouts  proved  too  much  for  the 
hostiles,  and  five  of  them  were  killed  outright,  and 
one  so  severely  wounded  that  he  died  a  few  minutes 
after  being  discovered.  A  single  brave  alone  escaped 
to  tell  the  Pah-Utes,  long  after,  in  their  far-away 
Nevada  homes,  the  story  of  how  his  brothers  had 
perished.  This  Indian  was  driven  back  into  the 
mountains,  and  though  he  was  diligently  searched 
for,  he  got  safely  away  unwounded. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


NAWONA 

The  little  band  of  Pah-Utes  headed  by  the  chief, 
traveled  until  the  moon  went  down,  and  then  camped 
behind  a  butte  at  the  water-hole  where  Manuel  and 
Marco  had  so  recently  trailed  the  burro.  The  girl  and 
the  chieftain  had  rested  a  little  apart  from  the  others. 

In  the  morning,  before  it  was  light  enough  to  see 
the  tracks  about  the  well  and  that  they  were  recent, 
they  set  out,  traveling  with  less  haste  than  before. 

Manuel  and  Philip  had  made  good  time,  but  the 
little  party  was  out  of  sight  before  they  came  to  the 
place  where  they  had  rested.  From  the  direction  they 
had  taken,  Manuel  knew  their  probable  movements. 

"They'll  make  for  the  second  water,"  he  said  to 
Philip,  "and  will  pass  the  hot  part  of  the  day  in  the 
shade  of  the  mesquite  that  grow  near.  We  can  go 
forward  without  fear,  for  even  should  they  see  us,  our 
rifles  are  too  good  for  them.  They  can  only  run  and 
our  bullets  can  go  faster.  But  they  will  sleep  as 
though  it  were  night  and  thus  will  we  come  upon 
them." 

Manuel's  prophecy  seemed  likely  of  realization  for, 
as  he  and  Philip  stopped  at  the  water-hole  only  long 
enough  to  fill  their  canteens,  the  fresh  trail  a  little 
after  noon  led  them  toward  the  mesquite  thicket. 

As  they  approached  they  paused  and 
[131] 


132 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


from  the  clump  came  the  sound  of  a  fierce  struggle 
with  panting,  breathing,  and  now  and  then  a  guttural 
sound.  Mingled  with  this  was  the  sound  of  a  woman's 
wild  weeping. 

Both  broke  into  a  run,  their  feet  making  little  noise 
upon  the  soft  sand,  as  they  sped  toward  the  bushes. 
The  sound  of  the  struggle  had  now  ceased,  and  they 
could  hear  a  curious  gurgling  noise,  then  a  wild  shriek 
and  another  and  another  lent  wings  to  their  feet. 

The  sight  that  they  saw  in  the  shadow  of  that  thicket 
made  them  pause  an  instant  in  horror-stricken  con 
templation.  Upon  the  ground,  his  features  composed 
as  in  the  peace  of  sleep,  lay  the  chief,  stone  dead,  a 
great  gash  upon  his  naked  breast  just  over  the  heart 
showing  how  he  had  died.  A  dozen  feet  away  lay 
another  Indian,  and  the  curious  gurgling  was  the 
death  rattle  in  his  throat.  He  was  bleeding  from  a 
dozen  wounds,  and  his  hand  still  clasping  his  hunting 
knife  showed  that  he  had  made  a  desperate  resistance. 

The  girl  was  cowering  against  a  rock  in  the  grasp 
of  the  only  living  member  of  the  hostile  braves.  His 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  with  a  savage  leer  as  he 
tried  to  drag  her  from  the  boulder,  and,  with  her  eyes 
closed  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  his  face  and  the  awful 
scene  beyond,  the  white  captive  was  shrieking  in  im 
potent  terror. 

Before  the  savage  could  turn,  Philip  had  struck  him 
to  the  ground  with  a  stunning  blow  from  his  clubbed 
rifle,  and  laid  the  now  fainting  girl  tenderly  upon  the 
sand.  He  saw  now  that  the  buck  he  had  felled  was 


NAWONA  133 

mortally  wounded  by  a  knife-thrust  in  his  side,  and 
while  Philip  bathed  the  face  of  the  girl,  holding 
his  canteen  to  her  lips,  the  wounded  savage  opened 
his  eyes,,  gasped,  and  died  at  Manuel's  feet. 

Here  they  were  alone  with  an  awful  tragedy.  It 
was  several  minutes  before  Philip's  ministrations 
brought  the  girl  to  her  senses,  and  it  was  some  time 
longer  before  her  terror  and  grief  at  the  loss  of  the 
only  protector  she  had  ever  known  enabled  her  to  tell 
her  rescuers  what  had  happened. 

The  captive,  who  called  herself  Nawona,  could 
speak  the  patois  of  the  California  Indians,  having 
learned  it  from  a  squaw  who  had  married  a  Pah-Ute 
buck.  As  Philip  could  speak  this  tongue  he  was  able 
to  converse  freely  with  the  girl  and  ask  her  many 
questions. 

He  found  that  they  had  traveled  thus  far  without 
anything  unusual  happening,  but  that  in  the  morning 
she  had  noticed  that  the  two  bucks  were  sullen,  and 
had  apparently  quarreled  about  something. 

Their  conduct,  however,  did  not  alarm  her,  and  she 
lay  down  by  her  father's  side  to  rest  in  the  shelter  of 
the  thicket,  and  being  very  weary  with  the  morning's 
march,  both  soon  fell  asleep. 

She  was  awakened  by  a  deep  groan,  and  saw  the 
murderous  knife  withdrawn  from  her  father's  breast. 
He  died  without  a  word  or  a  struggle,  while  she 
with  horrified  eyes  looking  at  him. 

The  other  brave  was  also  aroused  by  the  groan  that 
awakened  her,  and,  springing  to  his  feet,  attacked 


134 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


murderer,  only  to  fall,  bleeding  and  dying,  after  an 
awful  struggle.  He  had  given  a  good  account  of  him 
self  in  the  fight,  however,  and  had  struck  a  deathblow 
at  the  would-be  ravisher. 

Very  gently  Philip  talked  to  the  grief-stricken  girl, 
as  he  sat  with  her  by  the  dead  chief's  side. 

"He  was  good  and  kind  to  me,"  moaned  Nawona, 
"and  was  my  father." 

"But  you  are  white,"  said  Philip. 

"But  he  was  the  only  father  I  have  ever  known." 

"What  is  that  upon  his  necklace  ?"  said  Philip,  point 
ing  to  a  sort  of  golden  disk  that  hung  suspended  from 
the  dead  man's  neck  by  a  thong  of  deer  hide. 

"I  do  not  know,  he  has  worn  it  for  many  years." 

"Here,"  said  Philip,  severing  the  thong  with  his 
hunting  knife  and  handing  the  trinket  to  Nawona,' 
"Keep  this  as  a  memento  of  him,  for  we  must  leave^ 
him  here  in  the  desert  and  take  you  with  us  to  the 
home  of  your  people,  where  you  will  be  well  taken  care 
of  and  happy." 

Nawona  turned  the  trinket  in  her  hand,  weeping. 

"See,"  she  said,  "it  has  rain  drops  caught  in  it. 
Oh,  many  a  time  when  I  was  but  a  little  girl  I  have 
sat  upon  my  father's  knee  and  watched  the  sun  spark 
ling  upon  them." 

Philip  examined  the  disk  curiously.  He  would  have 
thought  it  a  locket,  but  nowhere  was  there  evidence  of 
a  hinge  joining  its  parts,  or  a  spring  to  separate  them. 
It  was  oval  in  shape,  and  on  one  side  an  old  English 


NAWONA 

G  was  outlined  in  small  diamonds,  with  a  large 
beautiful  stone  near  the  center  of  the  letter. 

"Where  can  he  have  found  that?"  said  Philip,  with 
a  secret  thought  that  maybe  it  had  been  the  spoil  of 
some  savage  murder.  "Keep  it  carefully,  Nawona, 
some  day  we  may  find  its  rightful  owner." 

With  their  hunting  knives,  Philip  and  Manuel 
scraped  a  shallow  grave  in  the  sand  in  which  they  laid 
the  body  of  the  dead  chieftain.  After  filling  in  the 
grave,  they  cut  mesquite  bushes  and  piled  them  upon 
it,  weighting  them  down  with  small  boulders  that  they 
gathered  here  and  there  out  of  the  waste,  providing 
thus  against  making  the  dead  man  a  feast  for  the 
coyotes  and  the  buzzards,  to  which  they  left  the 
bodies  of  the  two  dead  braves.  Then  with  the  girl 
§  bet  ween  them,  they  set  out  upon  their  return  to  the 
:  first  water-hole,  where  they  met  El  Estranjero  and 
the  others,  and  thence  made  a  quick  journey  to  the 
hills  that  skirted  the  edge  of  the  great  waste. 

As  all  the  band  was  now  accounted  for  but  the  ten 
Indians  that  had  been  sent  after  the  cattle,  and  as  the 
settlers  had  been  duly  apprised  of  the  raid,  with  every 
chance  of  frustrating  it,  there  was  now  no  need  of 
attempting  further  punishment,  and  it  was  decided 
to  make  a  leisurely  return  to  Spring  Rock  camp  where 
the  two  wounded  woodsmen  had  been  ordered  to 
for  the  party. 


CHAPTER   XXV 


THE  RUNAWAY 

No  news  had  come  to  the  house  with  the  patio  of 
the  fate  of  the  scouts  in  the  mountains  and,  after  a 
long  talk  with  Gardiner,  Holcomb  determined  that  he 
would  take  Jose,  the  Mestizo,  and  with  Gardiner 
would  seek  the  cowboy  camp  on  Mill  Creek,  where  a 
wide  lookout  for  further  raiding  parties  was  main 
tained,  and  recruiting  from  them  a  sufficient  force  to 
succor  El  Estranjero  and  the  rest,  would  take  the  trail 
for  the  woods. 

He  did  not  wait  for  the  elapse  of  the  time  he  had 
set  as  the  limit  for  the  news  to  come,  but,  early  the 
next  day,  made  ready  to  depart.  Alice  assisted  him 
with  suspicious  alacrity,  and  as  she  filled  his  saddle 
bags  with  bread,  bacon,  and  jerky,  she  surreptitiously 
made  ready  another  pouch  with  the  same  provender 
which  she  secreted  in  her  own  bedroom.  She  knew 
that  Mill  Creek  was  the  first  objective  point,  and  she 
knew,  too,  every  foot  of  the  way. 

Soon  after  her  father  and  his  companions  had 
departed,  she  saddled  her  horse,  and  dressed  herself 
in  a  stout  riding  suit.  The  daughters  of  California 
rode  "man-fashion"  in  that  day  as  they  do  in  this, 
and  her  mannish  riding  trousers,  wide  sombrero  and 
short  skirt,  with  a  loose  coat-like  blouse,  were  all  of 
gray-green  cloth,  serviceable  and  becoming  to  her 


THE  KUNAWAY 


137 


blonde  beauty.  Her  golden  hair  was  tightly  secured 
under  the  crown  of  her  hat,  her  strong  high-topped 
calf-skin  boots  protected  her  limbs  from  the  brush,  and 
thick  leather  gloves  covered  her  hands. 

She  surveyed  herself  in  the  mirror  with  mischievous 
delight  as  she  stood  equipped  for  her  escapade. 

"Now  let  me  see,  Daddy,"  she  said,  as  if  addressing 
her  father,  "I'll  want  a  blanket,  won't  I  ?  Well,  here 
goes,"  and  she  took  a  thick  gray  blanket  from  the 
closet,  made  it  into  a  neat  tight  roll  and  tied  it  firmly. 
"And,  of  course,  Daddy,  I'll  take  my  gun,"  and  she 
slipped  a  pearl-handled  revolver  into  her  belt.  "Now 
I  am  ready,"  and  kissing  her  hand  to  the  reflection  in 
the  glass,  she  went  out,  fastened  the  blanket  at  the 
back  of  her  saddle,  strapped  the  knapsack  on  it  also, 
then  sought  Francesca. 

The  old  woman  was  accustomed  to  having  her 
mistress  make  long  rides  to  visit  her  friends  and 
relatives  when  her  father  was  from  home,  and  she 
made  no  remark  as  Alice  told  her  that  she  was  going 
away  to  stay  until  her  father's  return,  and  gave  her 
certain  household  directions,  which  Francesca,  accord 
ing  to  her  usual  custom,  heard  politely,  and  also 
according  to  her  usual  custom,  proceeded  to  ignore. 

"For  what  does  the  Senorita  know,"  she  said  to  „ 
herself,  "of  the  kitchen  ?    It  is  to  me  who  knows  that 
the  doing  must  be  given  over." 

Alice,  from  her  safe  distance,  kept  the  dust  of  her 
father's  party  in  sight  all  day,  and  that  night  she  spent 
with  an  old  friend,  the  wife  of  a  cattleman,  but  a  few 


138 


EL  ESTRANJEBO 


miles  from  where  Holcomb  had  gone  into  camp  with 
the  cowboys  on  Mill  Creek,  near  the  old  Thurman 
camp,  not  far  from  the  trail  that  in  these  days  is  still 
traveled  to  Bear  Valley. 

Bright  and  early  the  next  morning,  accompanied 
by  half  a  dozen  cowboys,  Holcomb  started  toward 
Bear  Valley,  to  join  the  scouts,  who,  when  Gardiner 
left  them,  had  been  encamped  at  Rock  Springs.  Over 
the  picturesque  trail  past  Seven  Oaks  and  Mountain 
Home  they  went,  the  trail  following  a  small  clear 
brooklet,  which  it  crossed  again  and  again  as  it  hugged 
one  side  or  the  other  of  the  ravine.  At  midday  they 
halted  at  Mountain  Home,  and  rested  in  the  shade 
while  their  unsaddled  horses  grazed  near  by. 

All  that  fair  morning,  under  the  flickering  shadow  of 
the  leaves,  out  where  the  sun  shone  bright  and  hot, 
splashing  through  the  clear  streamlet,  Alice  trailed 
the  party.  Many  times  she  stopped  to  watch  some 
wild  creature  of  the  wood  scurry  up  the  mountain  side, 
or  to  return  the  call  of  some  bird  in  the  brush. 

Now  and  again  she  sang  in  a  clear  soft  voice  some 
L  ballad  of  love  or  adventure,  and  it  was  this  voice 
^p  carrolling  high  and  clear  that  the  men  lolling  upon 
the  ground  at  the  midday  camp  heard,  as  she  dashed 
their  midst,  flung  her  rein  over  her  horse's  neck, 
leaped  to  the  ground,  and  before  her  astonished  father 
xrould  get  his  breath  to  reprove  her,  had  thrown  her 
irm  about  his  neck  and  was  laughing  into  his  eyes. 

"Why  Alice  Holcomb,"  he  cried  in  amazement, 
f'How  did  you  get  here,  and  what  do  you  want  ?" 


THE  RUNAWAY 


139 


"Daddy,"  Alice  answered  with  her  sweet  ringing 
laugh,  as  she  deftly  loosened  her  horse's  cinch  and 
unstrapped  her  saddlebags,  "I  don't  want  anything  on 
earth,  but  my  dinner  and  good  company.  I've  got 
my  dinner  here,  and  if  you  won't  be  good  company, 
then  I'll  have  to  talk  to  Jose,  or  to  some  of  these 
gentlemen,"  and  she  looked  roguishly  about  her. 

"But  Alice,  where  are  you  going?" 

"I  don't  know,  Daddy,  but  I'm  going  wherever  you 
do." 

"But  there's  danger,  Alice.  We  may  have  a  fight. 
You  may  get  shot." 

"Now  look  here,  Daddy,  I  am  just  half  as  big  as 
you  are,  and  therefore  make  just  half  as  good  a  mark 
for  a  bullet;  so  you  see  I  stand  just  half  the  chance 
of  getting  shot." 

"But  I  can't  allow  this,  you'll  have—" 

"Now  Daddy,"  she  wheedled,  with  her  pouting  red 
lips  touching  his  cheek,  "don't  be  cross  with  me.  If 
I  were  a  boy  twenty-four  years  old  and  didn't  go  with 
you  at  such  a  time  you'd  say  I  was  a  coward,  and 
your  heart  would  be  broken.  Come,  Daddy,  you  don't 
want  your  child  to  be  a  coward  because  she  happens 
to  be  a  girl?" 

Holcomb  was  always  as  wax  in.  the  hands  of  this 
beloved  daughter,  and  now,  though  his  heart  sadly 
misgave  him,  he  yielded  to  her  wish  not  to  be  sent 
back  home.  Alice  had  shrewdly  calculated  on  the 
difficulty  that  would  attend  such  a  step,  with  the 
expedition  a  day  and  a  half  upon  its  journey,  and  il 


A 


140 


EL  ESTRANJEBQ 


was  with  a  glad  heart  that  she  saw  the  yielding  in  her 
father's  face. 

That  night  the  party  camped  at  Seven  Oaks,  and 
the  next  morning  as  Alice  held  a  cone  of  sugar  that 
she  had  brought  in  her  pouch  up  to  her  horse,  who 
was  fond  of  this  particular  dainty,  a  bee  lighted 
upon  the  lump  of  sweetness.  Soon  there  came  another 
bee  and  another,  and  Alice,  laying  the  sugar  on  a 
rock,  watched  the  little  insects. 

As  the  bees  would  get  their  fill  they  would  fly  away, 
all  in  the  same  direction.  Her  father  had  come  up  and 
two  or  three  of  the  men,  and  with  her  were  watching 
them.  "Hello !"  said  one  of  the  watchers,  "there  must 
be  a  bee-tree  somewhere  near.  Have  you  got  any 
more  sugar,  Miss  Alice?  If  you  have,  come  along  and 
we'll  'line  them.'  " 

Lining  bees  is  a  process  practiced  only  in  a  country 
with  plenty  of  timber  and  few  inhabitants,  and  almost 
unknown  to  all  except  the  pioneer,  who  resorted  to  this 
plan  to  supply  himself  with  a  substitute  for  sugar,  an 
article  very  difficult  to  get  and  sometimes  entirely 
unattainable  in  the  backwoods. 

The  bee  hunter  takes  a  little  sugar  in  a  dish,  and 
going  into  the  wilderness  or  mountains,  sets  the  sweet 
down  upon  a  rock  or  log  in  some  comparatively  open 
space,  watching  it  very  closely.  If  a  bee  lights  in  the 
sugar  the  hunter's  interest  becomes  intense.  With 
unflagging  attention  he  notes  the  direction  of  its 
flight,  then  taking  up  the  dish  he  moves  in  the  same 
direction  as  the  home-returning  bee.  In  another  open 


THE  RUNAWAY  141 

space  farther  on,  he  again  places  his  dish  of  sugar 
where  the  bees  may  reach  it,  again  observes  them 
gorge  and  turn  homeward,  and  repeating  this  process 
finds  the  tree. 

Holcomb  had  already  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
this  was  a  good  place  to  make  a  halt  and  had  sent  Jose 
and  another  man  upon  a  scout  to  see  if  they  could 
discover  any  signs  of  El  Estranjero's  party  or  what 
had  befallen  them. 

The  suggestion  to  "line"  the  bees,  therefore,  was 
quickly  adopted  and  Alice  entered  into  the  sport  with 
zest.  The  bees  having  filled  themselves  with  the  sugar, 
all  took  the  same  direction,  and  following  them  cau 
tiously,  their  home  in  a  great  pine  tree  was  soon  found 
and  robbed  of  its  sweet  store  by  a  skilled  bee  hunter 
in  the  party,  several  hundred  pounds  of  honey  being 
the  reward.  They  carried  away  all  they  wanted,  and 
it  was  then  determined  to  move  on  through  the 
enchanted  wood  of  Barton's  Flat  and  establish  their 
temporary  camp  on  the  Santa  Ana,  leaving  a  rear 
guard  to  meet  Jose  and  come  on  with  him. 

As  Alice  lay  that  night  rolled  up  in  her  blanket  in 
the  lee  of  a  rock  sufficiently  distant  from  the  camp 
fire  for  privacy,  but  near  enough  for  protection,  she 
looked  up  at  the  solemn  night  sky  studded  with  its 
stars  and  her  thoughts  went  out  to  the  man  she  loved. 

Somewhere  in  these  mountains  he  too  lay  under  the 
stars,  he  too  was  enwrapped  by  the  mystery  of  the 
brooding  night.  In  her  mind  there  was  no  thought 

that  she  had   done  an   unmaidenly   thing   in   coming 
10 


142 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


forth  in  this  manner,  and  no  disguise  to  herself  of  the 
fact  that  the  central  impulse  that  had  led  her  here  was 
to  secure  knowledge  of  him. 

How  would  she  bear  it  if  Jose  should  bring  back 
the  news  that  he  was  dead  or  mortally  wounded? 
Something  in  her  own  heart  quickly  repudiated  the 
suggestion.  "He  is  not  dead,"  she  told  herself,  "no, 
he  is  somewhere  in  this  wilderness  alive  and  unhurt, 
and  every  forward  step  will  take  us  nearer  to  him-." 

He  did  not  love  her,  well  she  knew  that.  Over  and 
over  she  had  told  herself  that  sad  fact,  so  often  that 
it  now  had  lost  its  first  sting.  A  woman's  love  does 
not  always  depend  upon  her  being  loved  in  return, 
Alice  thought,  and  any  one  who  thought  that  it  was 
immodest  to  love  without  return,  was  sordid  minded. 
It  would  be  immodest  to  reveal  it  to  one  who  did  not 
love,  but  not  so  to  experience  it. 

That  night  while  Alice  slept  out  under  the  stars, 
Estranjero  lay  beneath  an  oak  tree  at  the  crest  of  the 
low  hill  bordering  the  cienega  on  the  edge  of  the 
desert.  A  blanket  spread  tent-wise  on  some  saplings 
marked  the  place  where  Nawona  slumbered,  worn  out 
with  grief  and  travel.  Over  there  to  the  left  was 
the  camp  of  the  men  who  had  shared  with  Estranjero 
the  hardships  of  the  past  few  weeks. 

Their  faces  were  set  toward  home.  They  would 
find  there  the  love  of  wife,  children  or  kindred.  But 
here  was  he  like  a  dead  leaf  borne  hither  and  thither 
upon  the  wind,  and  there  yonder  was  the  white  girl 
they  had  rescued.  Their  fate  was  much  alike.  Neither 


THE  KUNAWAY 


143 


could  remember  home,  friends,  or  any  past,  different 
from  the  present.  He  would  befriend  her,  should  she 
not  find  favor  with  the  Holcomb  family. 

Then  thinking  of  the  kindness  of  the  dwellers  of 
the  house  with  the  patio  toward  himself,  he  reassured 
himself  of  her  welcome  there,  and  then  his  mind 
drifted  to  Alice,  and  with  her  face  before  him  he 
passed  into  slumber,  and  who  can  doubt  that  some 
where  in  that  space  where  the  souls  of  sleepers  meet, 
his  soul  met  hers  and  was  content. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


THE   RETURN    JOURNEY 

They  were  breaking  camp,  and  Philip  stood  with 
Nawona  and  El  Estranjero  ready  for  the  journey 
across  the  mountains  to  Elevado.  It  was  a  picturesque 
spot,  where  they  had  passed  the  night,  and  to  Philip 
in  the  exuberance  of  youthful  vitality  it  seemed  the 
most  lovely  of  any  they  had  seen  on  that  long  journey. 
It  may  have  been  because  now,  the  strain  of  pursuit 
ended,  he  could  better  apprehend  this  beauty,  or  it 
may  have  been  some  subtle  influence  of  the  morning, 
and  of  the  presence  of  the  young  waif  of  the  woods, 
whose  confiding  and  happy  glances  rested  now  upon 
him  and  now  upon  his  companion. 

On  one  side  of  them  flowed  a  stream,  its  dashing 
spray  sparkling  in  the  sunlight  in  all  its  crystal  purity, 
bedewing  the  grass  and  overhanging  foliage  along 
the  banks  with  freshening  drops  that  hung  like  tear 
drops  from  a  Peri's  eye.  Behind  them  was  spread  the 
great  glistening  deserts,  whose  burning  sands  extended 
in  every  direction  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

And  yet  that  vast  expanse,  so  full  of  danger  to  all 
human  and  animal  life  unprotected  on  its  great  bosom, 
has  its  attractions,  and  to  many,  a  fascination  almost 
unaccountable. 

To  those  born  and  nurtured  upon  this  waste,  there 
is  no  place  in  the  world  in  which  they  are  afterward 


.• 


THE  RETUEN  JOURNEY 


145 


satisfied.  There  are  those  who  have  been  compelled 
to  escape  the  mortal  terrors  of  "The  Great  White 
Plague,"  to  take  up  their  abode  upon  the  desert,  and 
have  become  so  infatuated  with  the  life  that  upon  their 
recovery  nothing  could  induce  them  to  return  to  their 
former  homes. 

To  Nawona,  the  desert  had  been  a  kind  nurse  and 
playfellow.  Here  she  had  gathered  the  dry  bladder-like 
seed  pods  that  the  Indian  children  attach  to  horsehairs 
and  cause  to  float  in  the  air  like  toy  balloons.  Here 
she  had  watched  gorgeous  sunsets  and  nights  of 
ethereal  mystery  and  beauty,  and  it  was  with  tear- 
dimmed  eyes  that  she  took  up  the  trail  with  her  new 
friends  that  led  her  to  a  strange  and  untried  life. 

That  night  they   camped   upon   a   high   ridge  and  ^ 
when  the  weary  comrades  of  her  march  were  lost  in 
slumber,  the  young  girl  raised  herself  from  her  bed 
of  pine  boughs  and  sat  watching  the  entrancing  beauty 
of  the  night,  her  heart  full  of  strange  emotions. 

Below  and  far  away  lay  the  desert,  its  border  sharply  ^ 
defined  by  the  fringe  of  foliage  that  marked  the  edge 
of  the  mountain  zone  and  added  its  charm  to  the  view 
of  the  waste.  The  moonlight  upon  the  nearer  woods 
and  mountains  brought  out  every  feature  of  the 
landscape. 

In  the  distance  and  above  it  all,  towered  the  great 
peaks  of  Grayback  and  San  Jacinto,  with  their  snow- 
covered    summits    gleaming    in    the    soft    light    and  -- 
outshining  the  brightness  of  the  desert  below.     Like 
sentinels  guarding  this  semi-tropic  beauty  they  stood 


146  EL  ESTRANJEEO 

forth  in  their  stately  grandeur,  visible  to  the  eye  from 
every  point  of  the  range  and  of  the  desert  and  even 
from  the  broad  expanse  of  the  distant  ocean. 

Upon  this  entrancing  scene  the  wakeful  girl  gazed 
long  in  silent  contemplation.  Her  troubled  thoughts 
were  soothed.  Her  grief  for  her  dead  and  the  fear 
for  her  future  were  merged  into  a  great  peace.  Her 
mind  turned  to  her  new  companions,  to  the  grave, 
handsome  El  Estranjero,  whose  gentle  manner 
and  constant  silent  thought  fulness  for  her  comfort 
kindled  in  her  a  warm  feeling  of  affection,  impelling 
her  often  in  that  day's  march  to  keep  near  him,  as  she 
felt  a  vague  comfort  in  his  presence. 

She  thought  too  of  Philip,  and  blushed  as  she 
remembered  how  his  ardent  glances  had  met  her  own 
shy  eyes,  and  the  admiration  that,  even  untutored 
as  she  was,  she  read  in  them.  He  had  laughed  and 
sung  that  day,  he  had  jested  and  smiled,  and  his 
gayety  and  good  nature  had  lightened  the  long  miles, 
and  his  infectious  hilarity  was  proof  against  every 
accident.  Sometimes  where  the  trail  had  revealed  a 
particularly  beautiful  view  he  had  called  her  attention 
to  it. 

How  different  were  these  men  from  the  silent  and 
stolid  beings  with  whom  her  life  had  been  passed. 
How  enchanted  seemed  that  day's  journey  with  the 
mingling  fragrance  of  forest  pine  and  waving  fern, 
the  dewy  freshness  of  the  mountain  air  greeting  the 
senses  at  every  step,  causing  the  blood  to  tingle  in  the 
veins,  thrilling  the  being  in  every  fiber. 


THE  RETURN  JOURNEY  147 

Nurtured  as  she  had  been  in  the  desert  and  the 
mountains,  seen  now  under  the  magic  light  of  a  new 
hope  and  promise  for  the  future,  they  too  seemed  new 
and  full  of  a  hitherto  unknown  beauty. 

Morning  found  her  still  in  the  peace  and  glamour 
of  the  moonlight,  and  as  the  days  went  by  Philip 
noticed,  with  something  of  a  feeling  akin  to  jealousy, 
the  strong  mutual  attraction  that  seemed  to  grow 
between  the  girl  and  El  Estranjero.  It  was  at  his  feet 
that  she  sat  when  the  venison  was  distributed  at 
mealtime.  It  was  to  him  she  put  her  questions  and 
made  her  confidences,  and  although  Philip  had  volun 
teered  to  teach  her  English,  and  as  they  went  along 
translated  the  Mission  patios  for  her  into  English 
sentences,  which  she  repeated  after  him,  it  was  to 
El  Estranjero  that  she  spoke  those  sentences  when 
she  had  once  mastered  them. 

To  Philip  himself  her  manner  was  straightforward 
but  shy  with  a  shyness  that  he  secretly  thought  most 
adorable,  and  at  the  same  time  attempted  to  vanquish 
by  his  own  light-hearted  gayety.  Traveling  thus,  in 
good  health  and  with  light  hearts,  the  little  party 
journeyed  toward  Spring  Rock  camp,  where  they 
expected  to  meet  the  two  men  who  had  been  wounded 
in  the  fight  with  the  middle  division  of  the  hostile 
band. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


BLACKBERRYING 

It  was  now  only  a  day's  march  to  the  Spring  Rock 
camp,  and  as  Nawona,  though  uncomplaining,  showed 
evidences  of  fatigue,  El  Estranjero  decided  to  rest 
here  while  the  others  of  the  party  hunted  for  fresh 
meat  to  replenish  their  nearly  exhausted  supply. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning,  the  forest  had  just 
awakened,  and  the  joyous  notes  of  the  birds  were 
resounding  from  every  bush  and  tree.  All  of  the 
hunters  except  Marco,  Philip,  and  El  Sefior  had 
dispersed  to  the  chase,  and  these,  with  Nawona,  were 
still  seated  about  the  embers  of  the  camp  fire,  the  two 
white  men  with  their  guns  across  their  knees  about 
to  arise  and  take  to  the  chase,  while  Marco  was  to 
remain  in  camp  with  the  girl. 

As  they  were  chatting,  two  beautifully  spotted  deer 
raced  through  the  camp  within  three  feet  of  them, 
but  neither  man  raised  his  gun  to  fire,  the  grace  of 
the  hunted  creatures  and  the  pathos  of  their  frightened 
glances  softening  their  hearts. 

Philip  rallied  El  Estranjero  upon  his  compassion, 
while  Nawona  smiled  with  pleasure  at  the  little 
incident. 

,     "As  for  me,"  Philip  said,  "I'm  tired  to  death  of  this 
everlasting  venison.     We  havejiad  nothing  but  meat 


BLACKBEEEYING  149 

and  bread  now  for  weeks,  and  I  for  one  am  ashamed 
to  look  a  deer  in  the  face." 

"I'm  always  ashamed  to  look  a  deer  in  the  face," 
replied  El  Estranjero,  "and  most  hunters  are  unable 
to  kill  the  pretty  creatures  for  the  joy  of  killing.  It 
is  only  the  need  of  food  that  makes  me  a  deer  hunter. 
But  come,  Philip,  we  must  do  our  part." 

The  two  men  strolled  away  together,  keeping  a 
sharp  lookout  for  game.  As  they  neared  the  top  of 
a  ridge,  they  saw  a  tangle  of  greenery  with  clusters  of 
ripe  berries  glistening  in  the  sun. 

"Blackberries,"  cried  Philip.  "Let's  fill  our  pouches 
and  take  them  back  to  camp.  I've  a  craving  for  fruit 
and  vegetables  that  is  almost  a  mania.  Now  if  we 
could  only  find  some  wild  celery  we'd  have  vegetables 
as  well  as  fruit,  but  I  can't  remember  any  place  around 
here  where  it  grows,  but  I  do  remember  that  black 
berry  patch  now,  and  wonder  why  I  didn't  think  of 
it  before." 

Philip  and  El  Estranjero  propped  the  mouth  of  their 
pouches  open  with  a  stick  at  the  top  and  bottom,  so 
that  the  fruit  might  not  be  crushed.  Philip  set  his 
gun  against  a  tree,  and  El  Estranjero  slung  his  upon 
the  strap  about  his  shoulder,  and,  using  the  broad 
leaves  of  the  oak  pinned  together  with  twigs  into  a 
cup  as  a  picking  vessel,  they  set  to  work  to  fill  their 
knapsacks  and  contribute  to  the  camp  luncheon  what 
they  knew  would  be  a  much  relished  dainty. 

The  vines  were  filled  with  great  black  juicy  berries  - 
that  would  have  made  the  mouth  of  an  epicure  water  | 


150 


EL  ESTKANJEKO 


with  anticipation.  The  berry-eating  denizens  of  the 
wildwood  had  made  no  impression  upon  them,  and  to 
the  thrifty  soul  of  Philip  the  tons  of  this  delicious 
fruit  wasting  upon  the  ground  brought  the  greatest 
regret  that  they  had  no  means  of  saving  it  for  their 
farther  journey. 

After  having  eaten  to  their  hearts  content,  the  two 
men  began  to  fill  their  pouches.  Soon  they  became 
absorbed  in  their  work,  and  so  gradually  became 
separated  by  a  little  cove.  Here  Philip  placed  his 
pouch  upon  the  ground,  and  picked  with  great  energy, 
for  the  berries  here  were  so  plentiful  that  he  could 
fairly  gather  them  by  the  handful,  and  almost  without 
moving  from  the  spot,  he  filled  his  pouch. 

He  now  determined  to  assist  El  Estranjero  in  filling 
his,  and  had  picked  his  leaf  cup  full  and  was  turning 
to  proceed  toward  his  companion,  when  he  heard  a 
slight  noise  in  the  direction  of  the  place  where  he  had 
left  his  berries. 

Turning,  he  was  astonished  to  see  a  cub  bear  calmly 
eating  from  his  pouch,  evidently  greatly  enjoying  the 
result  of  the  morning's  labors.  For  a  few  minutes 
Philip  stood  and  gazed  at  him,  as,  like  a  kitten,  the 
little  fellow  stood  patting  the  ground  with  his  fore- 
paws  while  munching  the  berries,  keeping  up  at  the 
time  a  good-natured  noise  midway  between  a  purr 
and  a  growl. 

Philip  laughed  at  the  sight,  and  then  remembering 
that  the  cub  was  encroaching  upon  the  camp  luncheon, 


BLACKBEREYING  151 

he  ran  toward  the  animal  crying,  "Hi  there,  you  little 
rascal/* 

The  cub  held  his  ground,  and  Philip  picked  up  a 
small  stone  as  he  ran,  and  when  within  about  ten  feet 
of  him  threw  it  with  such  good  aim  that  it  struck  him 
squarely  upon  the  back  with  great  force.  The  cub 
squealed  pitifully  and  started  to  run,  but  in  some 
manner  the  strap  of  the  pouch  slipped  over  his  neck 
and  he  was  unable  to  free  himself  from  it. 

The  dangling  impediment  frightened  him  so  badly 
that  he  rolled  over  and  squealed,  then  up  again,  he 
was  off,  squealing  at  every  jump. 

The  sight  was  so  ludicrous  that  Philip  laughed 
loud  and  heartily  in  spite  of  his  vexation  at  losing  his 
full  pouch,  and  El  Estranjero  appeared  around  the 
point  of  the  cave  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  his 
hilarity.  What  he  saw,  however,  was  no  cause  for 
laughter. 

"Philip,"  he  cried,  "Philip!"  Turning  his  head  at 
the  call,  Philip  saw  him  point  behind  the  place  where 
he,  Philip,  stood.  Quickly  facing  about,  he  saw  to 
his  horror  an  immense  she-bear  making  toward  him 
with  mouth  open  and  eyes  glaring,  growling  at  every 
leap. 

The  cub  had  started  in  the  direction  of  Estranjero, 
and  Philip's  rifle  was  about  a  hundred  yards  away. 
His  one  thought  was  to  reach  his  gun  and  seize  it 
before  the  bear  could  get  him.     He  was    a    college'; 
trained  athlete,  a  runner  of  almost  unexampled  agility,'? 
and  felt  confident  that  he  could  outstrip  the  bear.    This 


152 


EL  ESTKANJEBO 


he  might  have  done  had  he  not  tripped,  almost  at  the 
outset,  upon  a  vine  and  fallen  sprawling  upon  the 
ground.  He  had  only  time  to  turn  himself  and  draw 
his  hunting  knife  before  the  bear  was  upon  him,  one 
great  paw  upon  his  breast,  the  red  mouth  open,  tongue 
lolling  and  the  vicious  teeth  exposed  in  am  angry  snarl 
as  it  lunged  its  head  toward  him. 

Philip,  retaining  his  presence  of  mind,  struck 
fiercely  at  the  glaring  eyes,  and  then  without 
definite  aim  jabbed  at  the  brute's  muzzle.  He  had 
often  wondered  how  a  man  would  feel  in  the  presence 
of  a  danger  that  might  mean  death,  if  he  had  time  to 
reflect  upon  the  perilous  moment.  Philip  had  braved 
great  dangers,  but  at  those  times  had  been  so  absorbed 
in  action  that  he  had  no  time  to  note  his  own  feelings. 

Strangely  enough,  the  ferocious  appearance  of  the 
great  brute  seemed  to  inspire  him  with  no  terror,  and 
he  was  surprised  at  this  and  at  the  calmness  with 
which  he  analyzed  his  sensations.  He  caught  himself 
speculating,  as  he  jabbed  at  the  bear  with  his  knife, 
on  the  degree  of  pain  he  might  feel  should  the  bear 
succeed  in  breaking  his  guard  and  fastening  her 
gleaming  white  teeth  in  his  face  or  neck. 

A  feeling  of  apathy  stole  over  him,  an  impersonal 
benumbed  sort  of  condition  totally  unmixed  with  fear. 
Was  this  himself  acting  in  this  tragedy  or  some  other 
person  who  concerned  him  so  little  that  his  fate  pro 
duced  no  apprehension  or  even  excitement?  Was  he, 
r  Philip,  the  man  who  was  fighting  so  fiercely  for  his 
'i  life  and  yet  seemed  to  care  so  little?  Ah,  yes,  he  now 


BLACKBEKKYING 


153 


remembered  that  persons  and  animals  lose  all  fear  of 
death  when  they  realize  that  it  is  inevitable. 

Such  were  his  thoughts  in  the  few  seconds  that  he 
lay  literally  within  the  jaws  of  death.  He  had  for 
gotten  that  Estranjero  was  near.  His  whole  objective 
consciousness  was  dormant  in  the  face  of  this  danger, 
but  his  subjective  mind  was  as  clear  as  sunlight,  and 
was  not  only  fully  aware  of  all  that  was  happening, 
but  for  the  moment  had  assumed  the  function  of  the 
objective  and  was  reasoning  from  cause  to  effect. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  deafening  explosion  so  close 
to  him  that  it  startled  him  into  his  normal  self,  and 
the  next  instant  the  huge  bear  fell  across  his  body, 
knocking  the  breath  out  of  him  and  rendering  him 
wholly  unconscious. 

When  he  came  to  himself,  which  he  did  almost 
instantly,  the  bear's  body  had  been  pulled  off  from  him, 
and  El  Estranjero,  white  and  anxious,  knelt  beside 
him,  mopping  with  his  handkerchief  his  chest,  which 
was  bleeding  from  the  scratches  of  the  bear's  claws. 

Philip  sat  up  and  looked  about  him.  He  smiled  a 
little  shakily  as  he  rose  to  his  feet.  He  was  unhurt, 
for  the  scratches  wrere  only  superficial. 

"Well,  comrade,"  he  said,  as  he  spurned  the  bear 
with  his  foot,  "we  won't  have  to  eat  venison  for  lunch 
even  if  the  cub  did  spill  my  berries.  Where's  my 
knapsack  ?  Oh,  there  it  is !  I  think,  hereafter,  Senor, 
I  will  carry  my  gun  on  my  back,  as  you  do." 

"I  think  it  would  be  wise,"  said  Estranjero. 

Philip  picked  up  his  fallen  hat  and  came  and  gazed 


154 


EL  ESTBANJEBO 


down  upon  El  Estranjero,  who  was  examining  the 
huge  carcass.  "Serlor,"  he  said,  "this  is  the  second 
time  you  have  saved  my  life,  and  you  have  doubled  the 
debt  I  owe  you." 

"You  owe  me  nothing,"  El  Estranjero  returned  with 
a  frank  smile.  "I  have  only  done  what  you  would 
have  done  for  me  or  another  under  the  same  circum 
stances.  I  happened  to  be  the  one  nearest  you  both 
times,  and  accidents  will  happen  in  a  life  like  this. 
You'd  better  go  back  to  camp  now  and  send  Marco 
with  the  pack  horse.  I  will  dress  the  bear  and  then 
we'll  bring  it  in.  Bear  steak  will  taste  good  with 
these  berries." 

El  Estranjero  handed  Philip  his  well-filled  pouch 
and  set  to  work  upon  the  bear.  Philip  quickly  made 
his  way  to  the  camp,  where  his  disheveled  condition 
excited  Nawona's  tenderest  concern,  and,  while  Marco 
went  with  the  pack  horse  to  help  El  Estranjero,  Philip 
surrendered  himself  to  the  girl's  ministrations.  As 
she  washed  and  dressed  his  hurts  with  an  unguent 
she  carried  in  a  beaded  pouch  at  her  slender  waist, 
Philip  longed  to  take  the  busy  brown  hands  in  his  own 
and  cover  them  with  kisses,  and  he  even  confessed  to 
himself  afterward  that  he  had  rather  unnecessarily 
I  exaggerated  his  suffering,  in  order  that  he  might  feel 
ithe  sweet  balm  of  her  pity. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


CAMPING 

Holcomb's  little  party  was  encamped  upon  the  head 
waters  of  the  Santa  Ana,  for  Jose  had  come  with  the 
news  of  the  pursuit  of  the  larger  band  of  Indians  and 
its  destruction  in  the  Pass,  and  of  the  two  scouts 
who  had  been  injured  in  the  fight  but  were  making 
good  progress  and  there  awaited  El  Estranjero's 
return. 

To  these  men  Jose  had  borne  tidings  of  the  result 
of  the  raid  at  Crafton,  and  now  that  it  was  known 
that  there  were  no  hostiles  in  the  mountains,  except 
the  small  band  that  had  by  this  time  been  annihilated 
or  had  reached  the  desert,  the  cowboys  attending  the\\ J 
expedition  took  leave  of  the  party,  and  Alice,  her 
father,  Gardiner,  and  Jose  remained  in  camp,  having 
determined  to  join  El  Estranjero's  party  at  Spring 
Rock  upon  its  return.  Gardiner  volunteered  to  go 
back  and  remain  with  the  two  men  already  there  and 
at  once  to  bring  them  information  of  the  return  of 
their  friends. 

It  was  planned  that  Gardiner  should  seek  for  the  I 
party  by  the  blazes  they  should  make  upon  the  tree 
trunks  as  they  went,  in  case  they  should  leave  their 
present  camp. 

Left  alone  with  her  father  and  Jose  in  the  depths 
of  this  forest  beauty,  Alice  gave  herself  up  to  the 


156 


EL  ESTRANJEBO 


enjoyment  of  the  sylvan  life.  For  the  first  time  since 
childhood  she  had  the  delight  of  her  father's  company 
from  morning  till  night,  and  over  and  over  again 
she  made  him  confess  that  her  running  away  to  come 
to  him  was  nothing  less  than  an  inspiration. 

They  moved  their  camp  to  the  head  waters  of  the 
Santa  Ana.  Here  in  the  early  dawn  Alice  and  her 
father,  with  the  fishing  rods  that  Holcomb  always 
carried  when  he  went  even  upon  a  trip  like  this,  where 
the  food  supply  must  be  derived  from  nature's  store 
house,  and  with  bait  from  the  mold  near  the  banks 
of  the  stream,  fished  for  one  whole  forenoon  with  such 
substantial  results  that  Jose  was  busied  all  the  after 
noon  dressing  their  catch  and  cooking  it  for  future 
needs,  for  the  pioneers  wasted  none  of  the  good  gifts 
of  the  woods  and  streams,  nor  ever  killed  for  the  love 
of  slaughter. 

Again  and  again  as  the  two  fishers  would  cast  their 
hooks  they  would  hardly  touch  the  water  before  there 
would  be  a  rise,  and  the  next  instant  there  would  be 
dangling  from  the  line  a  trout,  the  size  of  which 
justified  the  hackneyed  term  "speckled  beauty/' 

Some  of  these  must  have  weighed  at  least  two 
pounds,  and  the  smallest  was  surely  three-quarters  of 
a  pound,  and  Alice  declared  as  she  sat  under  a  tree 
§  at \noon,  some  broad  leaves  of  the  oak  serving  her  as 
napery  and  platter,  her  fingers  for  knife  and  fork, 
that  never  in  all  her  life  had  she  tasted  anything  so 
delicious  as  these  trout,  fresh  from  the  river,  that  old 
rose  had  Broiled  over  the  coals. 


"Fished  for  one  whole  forenoon." — Page  140 


CAMPING  157 

Those  who  love  fishing  and  have  fished  from  that 
same  stream  in  these  days,  can  have  no  idea  of  the 
abundance  and  size  of  the  trout  there  and  the  ease 
with  which  they  were  obtained. 

The  squirrels  here  were  so  tame  and  so  numerous 
that  Alice  delighted  to  watch  them  as  they  skipped 
from  branch  to  branch  or,  sitting  upon  some  rock, 
gravely  observed  the  campers,  often  venturing  almost 
within  reach  of  their  hands.  It  seemed  a  shame  that 
Jose  was  so  unsentimental  as  to  convert  the  pretty 
creatures  into  soup  and  stew,  but  Alice's  gustatory 
enjoyment  was  no  less  keen  than  her  sentimental 
appreciation,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  no  food  had 
ever  tasted  so  ambrosial  as  this  eaten  under  the  open 
sky  in  the  green  wood. 

One  day  her  father  left  her  alone  in  camp,  which 
was  now  pitched  under  the  pines  at  the  foot,  and  upon 
the  northern  side  of  Old  Grayback.  Jose  had  built  a 
brush  house  or  wickiup,  and  here  upon  the  borders 
of  a  clear  pool  which  Alice  had  named  Mirror  Lake, 
because  of  its  placid  surface  and  the  clear  reflections 
in  the  water,  they  were  sheltered  from  the  cool  night 
winds.  The  country  here  was  comparatively  level, 
studded  with  stately  pine  and  spruce,  with  velvety 
green  turf  beneath,  that  gave  it  the  appearance  of  an 
English  park. 

It  was  a  delightful  spot,  and  Alice  was  content  to 
lie  upon  the  ground  in  the  cool  shade  and  dream  her 
waking  dreams,  and  did  not  object  when  her  father 
11 


158 


EL  ESTBANJERO 


left  her  alone  for  an  entire  day  and  tramped  away 
with  his  gun  upon  his  shoulder. 

He  came  back  late  at  night,  foot-sore  and  tired,  but 
empty  handed.  Alice  had  received  glad  news  that  day, 
and  her  excitement  and  the  charm  of  the  moonlight 
was  upon  her,  and  she  was  awake  and  waiting  for 
him  when  he  came  in. 

"Why,  Daddy,"  she  cried,  "Where's  your  game?" 

"Bring  me  some  supper  and  I  will  tell  you." 

She  brought  him  some  of  the  squirrel  stew  and  cold 
broiled  fish  that  had  been  reserved  for  him  and  settled 
herself  to  talk  to  him  as  he  ate. 

"Lassie,"  he  said  at  last,  as  satisfied  with  his  meal, 
he  lighted  his  pipe  and  leaned  back  against  a  tree  to 
enjoy  it. 

"Lassie,  have  you  ever  thought  what  this  country 
of  ours  would  be  without  these  mountains?  Without 
this  natural  barrier  that  holds  back  the  sands  of  the 
desert  and  prevents  their  spreading  to  the  sea?" 

"It  would  be  a  desolation,  Daddy,  that  makes  me 
shudder  to  think  of." 

"Yes,  my  girl,  a  desolation.  We  should  be  thankful 
for  the  convulsion  of  nature  that  uplifted  the  earth 
and  made  it  possible  for  the  human  family  to  exist 
upon  this  western  slope,  where  the  surroundings  are 
more  beautiful  and  climate  more  perfect  than  in  any 
other  part  of  the  country." 

s"Say  any  part  of  the  world,  Daddy,  and  you  will 
conk  nearer  the  exact  truth." 

it   other   country   would   afford   a   horseback 


CAMPING  159 

journey  that  can  be  made  in  two  hours  from  the  snow- 
line  on  the  mountain  top  to  the  golden-globed  orange 
grove  and  the  home  of  the  fig  and  vine,  where  the 
flowers  bloom  not  only  in  the  spring  but  where  their 
fragrance  charms  us  through  all  the  long  golden  year  ?" 

"Why,  Daddy,  you  are  becoming  quite  poetic." 

"I  believe,"  continued  Holcomb,  dreamily,  "that  this 
country  grows  more  and  more  beautiful  each  year. 
Oh,  yes,  you  said  I  had  grown  poetic.  I  have  been 
to-day  to  the  home  of  that  streamlet,  the  place  where 
it  was  born,  a  place  of  poetry." 

He  made  a  gesture  toward  the  babbling  brook  that, 
clear  as  crystal  and  cool  as  the  snow  from  which  it 
came,  dashed  over  the  rocks  and  stones  near  by. 

"Tell  me  about  it,  Daddy,"  said  Alice.  She  loved 
to  hear  her  father  talk  at  all  times,  for  the  feeling 
between  the  two  was  profound  and  tender,  but  most 
of  all  she  loved  to  hear  him  when  in  this  mood. 

"Sometime  our  valley  down  there  is  to  be  as  thickly 
settled  as  is  Belgium.  But  first  of  all  there  must  be 
water  to  irrigate  the  thirsty  fields,  and  to-day  I  climbed 
Grayback  to  take  a  look  into  the  future." 

"To  look  into  the  future,  Daddy?" 

"Yes,  Alice,  I  wanted  to  settle  two  things:  whether 
there  was  a  glacier  formation  up  there  to  give  an 
endless  supply  of  water — that  was  my  look  into  the 
future;  and  I  wanted  to  discover  if  it  were  true  that'i 
no   matter  how   sturdy   a   tree,   its   top   could   never^ 
reach  higher  than  the  peak,  no  matter  how  near  thej 
top  it  grew — that  was  mere  curiosity." 


160  EL  ESTRANJERO 

"And  what  did  you  discover?" 

"I  found  an  old  glacier  formation  that  would  be 
interesting  to  the  scientific  man,  and  satisfied  myself 
that  the  streams  born  in  those  heights  will  furnish  a 
sufficient  water  supply  to  irrigate  all  the  fertile  lands 
which  lie  down  there,  spread  out  from  the  mountains 
to  the  ocean." 

"And  the  trees?" 

"I  found  pine  trees  three  feet  in  diameter,  that 
owing  to  the  action  of  the  winds  reached  a  height  of 
but  four  feet,  whose  outspread  branches  extending 
more  than  twenty  feet  in  every  direction  from  the 
trunk,  were  as  flat  as  a  table." 

On  the  morrow  they  were  to  journey  to  Spring 
Rock,  for  Gardiner  had  come  in  during  the  day  with 
the  news  that  El  Estranjero  and  Philip  had  returned, 
and  that  with  them  was  a  white  girl  whom  they  had 
rescued  from  the  band  they  had  exterminated. 

It  was  with  a  thankful  heart  that  Alice  closed  her 
y,  eyes  that  night,  for  El  Estranjero  and  Philip  were 
-jffsafe,  and  soon,  yes,  very  soon  now,  she  would  see 
"'  them.     How  long  the  time  had  been,  but  the  waiting 
was  over  now,  and  to-morrow  they  would  meet  again. 
|lt  was  with  this  thought  that  Alice  sank    into    the 
dreamless  rest  that  nature  gives  to  those  who  seek  her 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

AT    SPRING    ROCK 

The  day's  journey  to  Spring  Rock  was  ended  and 
El  Estranjero  and  his  companions  were  surprised  to 
find  three  men  there  instead  of  the  two  they  had  ex 
pected  to  see.  When  El  Estranjero  recognized  Gardi 
ner  he  hurried  forward,  eager  to  hear  the  news  from 
the  valley. 

Gardiner  was  no  less  surprised  to  see  a  slender  young 
girl  dressed  in  the  Indian  garb  but  unmistakably  white, 
walking  by  El  Estranjero's  side,  for  the  two  men 
wounded  at  the  Pass  had  not  learned  of  the  presence 
of  the  girl  in  the  advance  Indian  band. 

Soon  the  whole  party  was  gathered  about  Gardiner, 
who  graphically  related  to  them  the  story  of  the 
Crafton  raid  and  set  at  rest  the  doubts  that  any  might 
have  entertained  that  the  defeat  of  the  Pah-Utes  was 
now  complete  and  overwhelming. 

For  hours  El  Estranjero  and  those  who  accompanied 
him  were  alternately  listeners  to  and  narrators  of 
adventures,  and  long  before  it  was  light  next  day 
Gardiner  was  on  his  way  back  to  Holcomb's  camp, 
which  he  found  without  difficulty  because  of  the  blazed 
places  upon  the  trees  along  the  way  the  little  party,; 
had  taken. 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  when  Holcomb, 
[161] 


162 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


Jose  and  Alice  rode  into  El  Estranjero's  camp  at 
Spring  Rock,  and  as  Gardiner  had  neglected  to  speak 
of  Alice's  presence  with  the  party,  the  surprise  of 
El  Estranjero  almost  made  him  dumb. 

Philip  was  lounging  on  the  grass,  his  head  upon 
his  knapsack,  and  as  he  sprang  to  meet  Alice,  his  face 
lighted  with  joy  and  surprise. 

"Why,  Chummie,"  he  cried,  giving  her  a  hug  as 
he  helped  her  out  of  the  saddle  and  kissing  her  half 
a  dozen  times,  "\vhere  on  earth  did  you  come  from?" 

"Let  me  go,  Philip,"  she  cried  playfully,  as  she 
heartily  returned  his  caresses.  "Let  me  go,  you  bear. 
Why,  bless  me,"  she  said,  standing  off,  holding  both 
hands  and  looking  at  him,  "Phillie,  lad,  you're  as  thin 
as  a  racer,  and  you're  actually  getting  wrinkles 
between  your  eyes,  you've  grown  so  much  older  since 
I  saw  you  last." 

Philip  dropped  her  hand  and  the  wrinkle  between 
his  eyes  became  a  scowl,  but  he  said  nothing,  and 
Alice  turned  to  greet  El  Estranjero,  as  he  finished 
shaking  her  father's  hand.  She  felt  cold  all  over  as 
he  took  her  hand  in  his  and  she  cast  her  eyes  upon 
the  ground  for  fear  that  he  might  see  in  them  some 
thing  of  her  pained  feeling. 

As  she  rode  into  camp  she  had  seen  the  picture 
of  Philip  lying  prone  upon  the  grass,  and  a  hundred 
feet  away  from  him,  under  a  great  oak  tree,  sat  a 
beautiful  and  graceful  girl,  her  long  curling  unbound 
hair  twined  with  a  chain  of  seed  buds  of  the  wild  rose, 
her  blue  eyes  raised  in  childish,  and  it  seemed  to  Alice, 


AT  SPRING  ROCK  163 

adoring  confidence  to  El  Estranjero,  who  was  bending 
over  her,  speaking  in  low,  rapid  tones. 

In  her  presence  he  had  always  been  silent  and 
somewhat  constrained.  With  her  there  was  never  this 
eager  interest,  this  low-toned  sustained  talk.  This 
was  no  momentary  passion,  like  that  which  had  moved 
him  that  moonlight  night  when  the  mocking  bird  sang 
in  the  rosebush.  His  face  was  transfigured  into  a 
tender  and  touching  beauty.  In  the  wild  he  had  found 
this  beautiful  creature,  had  rescued  her,  and  loved  her. 

Philip,  too,  had  been  watching  the  couple  under  his 
half-closed  lids  for  an  hour.  He  was  too  far  away 
to  hear  what  they  said.  He  drew  his  conclusions 
regarding  their  mutual  feelings,  not  from  this  one 
occurrence  alone,  but  from  the  numerous  other  things 
that  he  had  noticed  in  the  days  since  Nawona  had 
been  with  them. 

"She  was  attracted  to  him  the  very  first  moment," 
he  said  to  himself,  in  bitter  mood.     "She  listens  to 
?§-  every  word  he  says,  she  follows  his  every  movement, 
??and  she  cuddles  near  him  as  though  she  liked  to  be 
where  she  could  reach  out  her  hand  and  touch  him. 

"With  me,  though,"  his  thoughts  ran  on,  "she  is 
altogether  different.  When  I  speak  to  her,  she  colors 
to  the  edge  of  her  hair.  If  I  am  alone  with  her  five 
minutes,  she  makes  some  excuse  to  leave  me  or  join 
the  others.  When  I  speak,  she  casts  down  her  eyes  \ 
and  seems  not  to  be  listening,  and  it  was  I  who  saved 
her,  it  was  I  who  found  her  and  thought  for  her;  and 


164 


EL  ESTBANJEEO 


it  is  I,"  he  always  admitted  to  himself,  "it  is  I  who 
love  her,  yet  I  am  nothing  to  her." 

Nawona.  too,  had  her  thoughts  as  the  golden-haired 
girl  upon  the  horse  rode  into  camp.  She  had  seen 
animation  supersede  gloom  on  Philip's  face,  and  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  he  welcomed  the  newcomer. 

"Is  it  then  the  young  Sefior's  sister?"  she  questioned 
El  Estranjero. 

"No,"  he  replied,  but  he  had  no  time  to  explain 
their  relationship,  for  he  immediately  went  forward  to 
greet  his  old  friend  Holcomb. 

El  Estranjero,  too,  had  noticed  Philip's  welcome, 
and  the  pain  that  he  felt  made  his  own  greeting  seem 
cold  and  constrained. 

For  the  moment  all  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
Nawona,  but  Philip  was  the  first  to  notice  where  she 
stood  a  little  withdrawn,  her  hands  clasped  in  front 
of  her.  He  sprang  to  her  side  and  taking  the  loosely 
clasped  hands  in  his  own,  led  her  trembling  and 
frightened  to  Alice. 

"Chummie,"  he  said,  "this  is  our  Nawona,  our  little 
white  maiden  whom  we  found  a  prisoner  with  the 
Utes." 

The  clear  blue  eyes  were  raised  shyly  to  those  off 
Alice,  who  impulsively  put  both  arms  about  the  home 
less  girl  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks. 

"You  dear  little  nut-brown  lady,"  she  said  kindly, 
"you  shall  be  my  sister.  I  have  never  had  a  sister, 
Nawona,  and  have  always  wanted  one." 

Alice  spoke  in  English,  and  Nawona  comprehended 


AT  SPRING  ROCK  165 

only  a  few  words  of  what  she  said,  but  the  kindness 
and  sweetness  of  her  manner  won  Nawona  instantly 
and  at  the  touch  of  the  red  lips  she  smiled  through 
a  mist  that  gathered  in  her  eyes. 

"Speak  to  her  in  Indian,  Chummie,  she  doesn't  know 
what  you  are  saying/' 

Alice  patted  the  girl's  brown  head  as  it  lay  against 
her  shoulder  and  repeated,  "I  want  you  to  be  my 
sister,  little  Nawona,  and  to  live  with  me  and  let  me 
love  you  and  teach  you.  What  do  you  say?" 

"I  say  that  the  Senorita  is  lovely  and  kind,  but 
before  I  answer  as  my  heart  wills,  I  must  first  speak 
to  him,  El  Estranjero,  my  good  friend,  and  tell  him 
that  you  would  care  for  me." 

"Go  then/'  said  Alice,  a  little  unsteadily.  Almost 
instinctively  Alice  raised  her  eyebrows  inquiringly  as 
she  glanced  at  the  gloomy  Philip. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  as  if  in  answer  to  a  question,  "it 
was  a  case  at  first  sight,  I  think.  By  Jove,  it's  hard 
on  me,  for  I  tell  you,  Chummie,  I've  seen  many  a 
sweet  girl,  but  never  one  like  this  wild  rose  of  the 
desert.  Oh,  Chummie,"  and  the  boy's  voice  broke 
in  spite  of  himself,  "I  can't  tell  you  how  it  hurts,  but; 
it's  worse  than  being  attacked  by  a  wild-cat  or  clawed' 
by  a  bear,  and  I  know  how  both  those  things  feel/' 

"You,  too,  Laddie!"  replied  Alice.  "Come,  let  usfl 
walk  a  little  down  there  in  the  shade  and  you  shall! 
pour  out  your  heart  to  Chummie,"  and  she  linked' 
her  arm  within  his  and  led  him  away. 

El  Estranjero  paused  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence'  ; 


/ 


166 


EL  ESTKANJEKO 


and  watched  them  go,  while  Nawona  turned  resolutely 
away  and  with  the  stolidity  she  had  learned  from  the 
women  among  whom  she  had  been  reared,  made  her 
face  an  imperturbable  mask  as  she  sank  down  at  the 
foot  of  an  oak  and  cast  her  eyes  upon  the  ground. 

Holcomb,  with  the  amiable  stupidity  of  his  kind, 
saw  nothing  of  the  expression  upon  either  face,  but 
was  deep  in  his  story  of  the  rout  of  the  Indians. 
While  they  compared  notes  on  the  casualties  sustained 
by  the  enemy,  it  was  decided  that  all  of  the  party 
except  themselves  and  Jose  should  be  allowed  to  go 
to  the  valley,  and  that  they  would  remain  here  where 
game  was  plenty  for  a  few  days  to  allow  Nawona 
time  for  complete  rest  from  the  severe  fatigues  that 
so  much  traveling  had  entailed.  Holcomb's  own  horse 
would  serve  for  a  pack  horse,  while  Jose's  and  Alice's 
would  suffice  for  the  needs  of  the  girls. 

Marco  and  Manuel,  leading  the  burro  to  which  they 
now  had  joint  ownership,  Gardiner  and  Juan  with  the 
scouts  who  now  eagerly  set  forth  for  the  valley,  made 
a  cavalcade  of  a  dozen  persons,  and  these  had  packed 
and  begun  their  journey  an  hour  before  Jose's  mellow 
call  summoned  Alice  and  Philip  from  their  conference 
in  the  shade  of  the  great  oaks,  where  the  stream  babbled 
along  in  the  moss. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


CONFIDENCES 

"Now,  Laddie,  I  want  the  whole  story,  from  the 
very  beginning,"  Alice  had  said,  taking  off  her 
sombrero  and  fanning  her  flushed  face.  "I  want  you 
to  tell  me  everything  that  has  happened  from  the  time 
you  left  up  to  this  very  minute." 

The  tale  proved  to  be  more  exciting  than  she  had 
imagined.  Philip  told  of  the  attack  of  the  wild-cat 
and  how  El  Estranjero's  presence  of  mind  saved  his 
life.  He  related  the  story  of  the  blackberry  picking, 
and  how  again  El  Estranjero  rescued  him  from  death. 

The  story  of  the  long  pursuit,  the  discovery  of  the 
white  girl  by  the  pool,  the  trail  across  the  desert,  and 
the  opportune  arrival  of  himself  and  Juan  to  save 
Nawona  from  the  clutches  of  the  wounded  brave  was 
all  told  with  a  simple  directness  that  held  the  girl's 
breathless  attention. 

In  imagination,  as  he  talked,  she  saw  Estranjero 
leading  his  men  through  the  wild  Pass  and  over  the 
deep  ravines.  She  could  see  him  at  the  camp  fire  and 
on  the  march,  and  she  could  see  him,  too,  with  the 
fair  captive  by  his  side  in  the  long  hours  of  their 
return  journey.  She  could  understand  the  girl's  deep 
infatuation  for  such  a  man,  for  had  not  she  herself 
fallen  a  victim  to  his  personal  charm,  and  she  had 

[167] 


168 


EL  ESTRANJEEO 


seen  many  men  while  Nawona  had  known  only  the 
rude  savages  among  whom  she  was  reared. 

"I  loved  her  from  the  very  first,  Chummie,"  Philip 
said,  a  flush  mounting  to  his  forehead  as  he  made  the 
confession.  "I  loved  her  the  moment  I  saw  her  down 
by  the  pool,  and  I  have  gone  on  loving  her  more  every 
day  and  hour  since. 

"Now,  Alice,  I  suppose  you  don't  believe  in  love 
at  first  sight,  and  maybe  you  don't  believe  at  all  in 
such  unreasoning  love  as  mine  is." 

Alice  was  silent,  her  face  instantly  grave. 

"You  are  mistaken,  Laddie,"  she  said  softly.  "You 
are  entirely  mistaken.  I  was  smiling  because  I  was 
thinking  of  what  you  said  about  'thrills,'  in  the  patio 
that  morning,  before  you  started  on  this  campaign.  I 
was  thinking  that  the  thrills  were  coming  thick  and 
fast  for  you." 

"They  are  indeed,  Alice,"  replied  Philip,  "and  I 
would  be  willing  to  dispense  with  a  few  of  these 
particular  thrills  if  I  might  secure  peace  instead." 

"So  you  mean,  Philip,  you  would  rather  have  peace 
of  mind  than  to  have  your  love  for  Nawona?" 

"No  indeed,  Alice,"  was  the  quick  rejoinder,  "I 
could  never  give  that  up." 

"Even  though  it  is  a  hopeless  love?"  inquired  Alice. 

"Even  though  it  is  a  hopeless  love,"  said  Philip. 

"But  Philip,  think  of  the  long  nights  when  you  toss 
!upon  your  pillow  thinking  of  her.  Think  of  the  days 
when  you  know  that  she  is  careless  of  you  though 
every  waking  moment  centers  about  her.  Oh, 


fC    J 


CONFIDENCES 

Philip,  would  you  not  give  up  a  hopeless  love  if  you 
could?  Is  the  pain  of  it  not  more  than  the  pain  of 
renouncing  it?" 

Philip  had  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and  was 
gazing  at  Alice  curiously,  but  her  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  a  swaying  branch  far  ahead  and  she  did  not 
notice  his  fixed  attention. 

"Laddie,"  she  continued  softly,  her  slender  hands 
plucking  a  tuft  of- grass,  "it  is  a  strange  thing,  this 
love  that  tortures  you,  and  yet  will  not  be  crushed  by 
coldness  or  neglect  or  distance.  It  is  a  strange  thing, 
surely,  this  love  that  lures  and  lashes,  that  feeds  and 
fills  with  hunger  at  the  same  time." 

His  silence  caused  her  to  turn  and  meet  his  look. 

"Chummie,  you  were  not  thinking  of  me  at  all, 
while  you  were  saying  that." 

Alice  colored  but  held  her  peace. 

"Chummie,  you're  in  love  yourself." 

Alice  turned  away  her  flaming  face. 

"Now  look  here,  Chummie,  tell  me  who's  the  man, 
and  I'll  go  out  and  persuade  him  with  a  club,  if  I 
can't  make  him  reasonable  any  other  way.  What's  his 
name,  Chummie  ?  I  am  your  father-confessor  now ;  as 
you  have  listened  to  my  tale  of  woe,  I'll  listen  to 
yours,  and  we'll  console  each  other." 

Again  Alice  was  silent.  Swiftly  Philip  thought 
over  the  various  men  with  whom  he  knew  Alice  to 
have  been  acquainted,  and  as  swiftly  his  mind  rejected 
them  all.  Jove,  it  was  some  one  out  West  here,  some 
one  Alice  had  met  after  leaving  him  in  St.  Louis.  He 


170 


EL  ESTRANJEKO 


had  noticed  a  change  in  her  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  and 
more  than  once  since  he  had  thought  about  it.  It  had 
been  most  pronounced  since  the  night  of  the  Rodeo, 
when  she  walked  home  with  El  Estranjero. 

It  came  to  him  then  like  a  flash;  the  look  upon 
Alice's  face  when  El  Estranjero  went  away  without 
saying  good-bye  to  her;  the  strange  brightness  in  her 
eyes  so  often  when  she  had  glanced  at  him'.  Yes, 
it  was  El  Estranjero,  he  now  had  no  more  doubt  of 
it  than  if  Alice  had  confessed  it. 

"Chummie,"  he  said,  taking  both  her  hands  and 
making  her  look  at  him,  "You  needn't  tell  me,  I  know 
already,  it  is  El  Estranjero." 

The  girl's  face  grew  white.  Had  she  then  showed 
her  preference  so  plainly  that  even  her  gay,  careless 
young  cousin  had  seen  it?  Was  that  the  reason 
Estranjero  never  repeated  his  question  of  the  night 
in  the  patio?  Was  her  love  given  so  swiftly  that  it 
seemed  worthless  to  him? 

All  these  queries  passed  through  her  mind,  but  she 
said  not  a  word. 

"Chummie,  you  are  a  cool-headed,  clever  girl,  and 
you  never  gave  the  least  sign  that  anybody  not  as  deep 
in  love  as  I  am,  could  have  interpreted,  and  I  never 
thought  of  it  myself  until  this  minute,  but  I  know  it's 
El  Estranjero.  Poor  little  cousin,  and  you,  too?" 

"I  too,  Philip,"  Alice  breathed. 

"Why,  Chummie,  he's  years  older  than  you." 

"His  soul  is  in  its  first  youth,  Laddie." 

"You  know  nothing  about  him,  Clnimmie." 


CONFIDENCES 


171 


"I  know  all  that  he  himself  knows." 

"But  he  does  not  love  you,  dear." 

"Ah,"  said  Alice,  laughing  through  the  tears  that 
gathered  in  her  eyes,  "and  Nawona  does  not  love  you, 
dear.  It  strikes  me,  Laddie,  we  are  in  the  same  boat, 
and  all  we  can  do  is  to  comfort  each  other  till  the 
sea  swallows  us  up." 

Just  the'n  Jose's  clear  call  to  dinner  startled  them. 

"Go,  Philip,"  she  said.    "I  will  come  in  a  minute." 

She  laved  her  face  in  the  brook,  brought  into  order 
the  disarrangement  of  her  hair,  and  then  humming  a 
careless  tune,  came  into  camp  and,  sitting  down  by 
Nawona's  side,  charmed  away  a  sadness  that  seemed 
to  have  stolen  over  the  young  girl. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A   LESSON   IN    LOVE 

That  afternoon  Nawona  went  alone  to  the  brook- 
side.  There  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  cove, 
sheltered  from  all  observation,  was  a  deep  and  quiet 
pool.  The  girl  removed  her  garments  and  plunged 
into  the  pool,  sporting  in  the  water  like  a  fish,  her 
white  limbs  and  body  making  an  odd  contrast  with  her 
sun-browned  face. 

When  she  had  tired  of  swimming,  she  clothed  her 
self,  spread  out  her  wet  hair  to  dry,  then  combed  it 
rudely,  braided  it  with  the  chain  of  red  seed  buds 
wound  through  the  strands,  put  the  cincture  with  its 
eagle  feather  about  her  forehead,  and  sat  looking  sadly 
into  the  mirror-like  surface  of  the  water.  Soon  she 
threw  herself  down  upon  the  ground  and  wept 
unrestrainedly,  her  slender  hands  clenched,  her  body 
shaken  with  sobs. 

Here  El  Estranjero,  who  had  killed  a  buck  which 
was  carrying  into  camp,  came  upon  her,  and  as 
he  had  lifted  a  little  freckle-faced,  long-limbed  girl 
from  the  shade  of  an  orange  tree  so  long  ago  and 
dried  her  tears,  so  he  now  lifted  Nawona. 

"Poor  little  girl,"  he  said  softly,  pressing  her  cheek 
against  his  shoulder,  where  she  lay  still  sobbing,  "poor 
1  little  girl,  El  Estranjero  is  sorry  with  you  that  you 
weep  for  the  chief  who  was  your  father." 

[172] 


A  LESSON  IN  LOVE 


173 


Nawona  was  making  a  strong  effort  to  control  her 
self,  and  soon  sat  up  and  wiped  her  eyes. 

Then  El  Estranjero  noticed  her  hair,  dressed  again 
in  the  Indian  manner. 

"Why,  Nawona !"  he  said  in  surprise,  "why  do  you 
braid  your  hair  again  and  wear  the  eagle's  feather?" 

"Oh,  my  friend,"  sighed  the  girl,  "I  am  but  a  poor 
Indian  after  all,  even  though  my  skin  is  white!  I 
know  nothing,  my  hands  are  brown,  my  face  is  ugly. 
But,  oh,  she  is  like  a  lily  with  her  golden  hair  and  her 
white  forehead.  She  is  so  beautiful  and  so  good,  and 
I  am  ugly  and  ill-natured  and  ungrateful.  Leave  me 
here  in  the  woods  to  die,  El  Senor,  for  how  can  anyone 
love  me  ?" 

"Poor  little  girl,"  El  Senor  said,  "and  are  you  i, 
jealous  of  Alice  ?  Dear  little  Nawona,  you  are  pretty, 
too,  and  you  are  sweet  and  winsome,  though  you  do 
not  know  it.  All  love  you,  and  in  a  few  months  your 
own  skin  will  be  as  white  as  Alice's  and  she  will  teach 
you  many  things,  for  she  is  good." 

Nawona  dropped  her  head  in  shame  at  her  petty 
outburst,  and  with  nervous  fingers  began  to  unbraid 
her  hair  and  shake  its  curly  length  about  her  face. 
The  eagle's  feather  she  cast  away  with  its  cincture. 

"Oh,  Estranjero,  I  am  ashamed,  ashamed!"  she 
said.  "I  am  a  wicked  girl,  but  see,  I  have  thrown  the 
feather  away.  Now  I  will  try  to  learn  of  the  Sefiorita 
to  be  sweet  and  unselfish  like  she  is,  and  shall  pain 
you  no  more  by  my  bad  temper." 

12 


174 


EL  ESTRANJEBO 


She  smiled  at  him  now,  but  it  was  a  wan  little  smile, 
and  the  tears  were  very  near  it. 

"What  is  it,  little  maid?"  questioned  El  Sefior, 
kindly.  "You  know  that  I  am  ready  to  give  you 
counsel  in  any  trouble.  What  is  it  that  hurts  you  so?" 

"She  is  not  his  sister,"  murmured  the  girl,  "and 
yet  he  held  her  and  kissed  her  as  men  do  who  love 
their  squaws." 

"Not  squaws,"  corrected  El  Senor,  "that  is  Indian. 
Say  sweetheart." 

"Yes,  sweetheart,"  said  the  girl,  her  voice  lingering 
•If  lovingly  on  the  sweet  word.     "Then  he  goes  away 
1  with  her  alone,  and  they  stay  long  and  talk  together." 

"You  are  speaking  of  Philip?"  softly  questioned 
El  Estranjero. 

"Of  Senor  Philip.    Yes." 

"Oh,"  he  said  with  a  faint  smile,  "and  you  did  not 
like  it  that  he  should  kiss  Miss  Alice  and  talk  with 
her  alone?" 

"No,"  said  the  girl,  simply. 

"And  why  did  you  not  like  it?"  asked  El  Sefior. 

The  girl  pouted  her  pretty  lips  and  said  nothing. 

"Why  did  you  not  like  it?"  El  Sefior  insisted. 

"Oh,  my  friend,"  the  girl  said,  raising  her  eyes  to 
his  face,  "why  does  the  moonlight  make  me  sad  ?  Why 
does  the  bird  song  make  me  weep  and  laugh  at  once? 
Why  does  every  hour  seem  long  when  Sefior  Philip 
is  not  near?  Why  does  the  whole  day  seem  like  an 
hour  when  he  is  with  me?" 


A  LESSON  IN  LOVE 


"Why,  indeed,  little  girl,"  El  Senor  said,  "only  you 
can  answer  that." 

"He  came  to  me  when  I  was  alone  and  in  danger 
and  he  buried  my  father  and  brought  me  to  you  on 
the  mountain.  Always  he  chose  the  smoothest  places 
for  my  feet,  always  he  brought  me  the  best  food  and 
the  coolest  water.  Often  I  tried  to  thank  him,  but 
when  I  look  at  him,  so  tall  and  beautiful,  it  is  as 
|( though  I  looked  at  the  sun  and  was  dazzled,  and  can 
not  speak." 

"Why,  little  maid?  Why?"  El  Estranjero  gently 
asked  again. 

"Yes,  why?"  the  girl  repeated.  "Why  does  his 
touch  make  something  here,"  and  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  her  chest,  "to  hurt?  Why  do  I  wish  to  hide 
from  him,  yet  wish  to  be  near  him?  His  smile  is 
like  the  spring  to  me,  his  frown  like  the  winter,  and 
now  the  Senorita  has  come  and  he  will  smile  on  me 
no  more." 

She  looked  sadly  away  toward  an  empty  nest  in  a 
blasted  pine,  and  the  Sefior's  glances  followed  hers. 

"Nawona,"  he  said  kindly,  "the  Great  Spirit 
brought  you  to  us  through  many  dangers.  We  can 
not  have  all  the  blessings  of  life.  Do  you  not  wish 
Sefior  Philip  to  be  happy  ?" 

"You  know,  Sefior,  I  do." 

"Do  you  think  he  is  happier  with  you  or  with  the 
beautiful  golden-haired  Senorita?" 

"Never  have  I  heard  him  laugh  as  loud  as  to-day," 
replied  the  girl,  "though  he  is  often  gay.  It  has  been 


176 


EL  ESTBANJEBO 


long  since  his  face  has  been  as  smiling  as  it  is  to-day. 
I  think  it  must  be,"  she  said  with  a  pause  between 
every  word,  "yes,  it  must  be,  because  of  the  Senorita." 
"Nawona,  you  love  the  Senor  Philip.  You  are 
young,  you  will  see  many  men  as  handsome.  Your 
feeling  will  pass." 

The  girl  slowly  shook  her  head. 
"Yes,  Nawona,  it  will  -pass.    What  would  you  give 
Senor  Philip  to  make  him  always  happy?" 

"Any  thing,  all  things,  even  my  life;  but  I  am  a 
poor  girl,  I  have  nothing  to  give." 

"Yes,  Nawona,  you  have  something  to  give,  and 
rue  love  always  gives.    Love  is  giving,  not  receiving. 
Here  in  the  woods  and  among  the  people  that  you 
ave  known,  love  means  possession,  does  it  not?" 
The  girl  assented. 

"And  if  one  wants  what  another  has  chosen,  what 
is  done?" 

"They  fight,"  answered  Nawona,  with  a  shuddering 
recollection  of  the  struggle  over  her  father's  body. 
"They  fight  and  the  strongest  takes.  And  if  it  is  a 
woman,  they  beat  her  if  she  does  not  wish  to  be  taken. 
She  must  follow  her  master  wherever  he  leads." 

"But  the  white  man  does  not  beat  the  woman.    He 
chooses  only  where  he  loves.     She  follows  willingly, 
because  she  loves,"  said  Estranjero. 
"Yes,"  assented  Nawona. 

"Now  you  and  I  must  learn  the  noblest  part  of 
love,"  said  El  Estranjero,  speaking  more  to  himself 
than  to  her,  "we  must  learn  to  be  silent  and  give  no 


A  LESSON  IN  LOVE 


177 


sign.  We  must  learn  to  suffer  and  never  to  weep.  We 
must  learn  to  renounce,  and  somewhere  the  Great 
Spirit  will  give  us  our  heart's  desire.  Come,  little 
sister." 

Hand  in  hand  they  returned  to  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


BY   THE   EVENING    FIRE 

The  days  of  close  companionship  in  the  camp  had 
quite  worn  away  the  distrust  of  Alice  that  Nawona 
had  felt,  while  at  the  same  time  a  hundred  little 
things,  words,  glances,  and  long  strolls  in  the  woods 
that  Alice  and  Philip  were  wont  to  take  together,  had 
convinced  her  of  their  mutual  affection. 

This  naturally  drew  her  close  to  El  Estranjero, 
for  in  his  presence,  and  the  knowledge  that  he  knew 
,(x  her  secret  love  for  Philip,  she  found  comfort.  To 
Alice  and  Philip  the  mutual  attitude  of  El  Estranjero 
and  the  girl  confirmed  the  mistaken  idea  they  had 
conceived  of  their  relations,  and  although  the  subject 
was  not  again  mentioned  between  them,  it  was  always 
in  their  thoughts. 

Now  they  had  turned  toward  Elevado,  and  were 
making  good  progress  when  late  in  the  afternoon  the 
haze  that  had  all  day  been  in  the  air  was  pronounced 
by  Jose  to  be  a  mountain  fire.  The  party  had  intended 
camping  at  Glenn  Ranch,  but  as  they  proceeded  the 
smoke  became  so  dense  that  it  was  decided  to  climb 
a  near-by  ridge  commanding  a  wide  view  over  the 
surrounding  country,  that  they  might,  if  possible, 
locate  the  fire. 

They  saw  that  the  dry  grass  at  the  lower  end  of 
[178] 


BY  THE  EVENING  FIRE  179 

Glenn  Canon  had  in  some  way  been  fired.  A  current 
of  wind  from  the  ocean  was  driving  the  smoke  and 
flame  up  through  the  valley  in  great  volume,  and  that 
the  fire  was  traveling  almost  with  the  rapidity  of  an 
express  train. 

Their  chief  concern  now  was  to  avoid  this  danger, 
and  to  find  a  trail  that  would  take  them  around  the 
apparent  track  of  the  fire. 

As  they  descended  the  ridge,  there  rushed  past 
them,  hurrying  out  of  the  smoke  that  now  curled  over 
its  summit,  a  wild-eyed  doe  and  then  her  mate.  A 
moment  later  a  wild-cat  crossed  their  path,  and  hardly 
had  they  taken  a  dozen  steps  until  a  pair  of  coyotes 
loped  down  the  hill,  swerving  and  turning  aside  from 
them,  but  seeming  to  have  less  terror  of  the  men  who 
were  their  natural  enemies  than  they  had  of  the  fierce 
red  danger  behind  them. 

They  could  hear  other  animals  crashing  through  the 
underbrush,  and  the  girls  felt  relieved  when  they  again 
reached  the  place  where  they  had  left  the  horses  and 
Jose  led  them  to  a  trail  he  found  to  the  eastward,  away 
from  the  track  of  the  conflagration  toward  Cajon 
Pass. 

In  half  an  hour  they  were  out  of  the  dense  smoke 
and  emerging  into  an  atmosphere  which,  though  not 
entirely  clear,  was  yet  bearable,  and  from  a  heat  the 
intensity  of  which  made  breathing  difficult.  Now  they 
were  safe,  as  the  fire  could  not  reach  them  here,  and 
after  they  had  crossed  the  Pass  they  pitched  their 
camp  in  a  secluded  place,  surrounded  by  rocks  and 


180  EL  ESTRANJERO 

gigantic  trees,  one  of  those  beautiful  spots  so  common 
in  the  picturesque  mountains  of  California. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  they  reached  this  point  and 
all  were  fatigued  by  this  trying  day's  journey,  but 
when  the  camp  fire  was  built  and  Jose  had  prepared 
a  venison  stew  that  would  have  made  the  mouth  of 
an  epicure  water,  they  were  unusually  gay  as  they 
ate  their  evening  meal.  When  this  was  over  fresh 
fuel  was  heaped  upon  the  fire  and  they  all  stretched 
themselves  luxuriously  upon  the  ground  to  enjoy  it,  for 
the  air  grew  more  and  more  chilly  with  every  night,  and 
the  camp  'fire  was  now  necessary  to  their  comfort. 

Alice  had  spread  her  blanket  upon  the  ground,  and 
as  her  father  and  El  Estranjero  lighted  their  evening 
pipes,  she  placed  the  saddles  upon  a  convenient  hun> 
mock  that  made  them  serve  as  a  rest  for  a  weary  back, 
and  drawing  Nawona  down  beside  her,  leaned  her 
elbow  upon  her  father's  knee. 

Holcomb  was  gazing  meditatively  at  the  fire. 
"Daddy,"  she  said,  "it's  a  great  shame  that  Glenn 
Canyon  should  be  burned  out  in  that  way.  It's  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  places  in  all  these  mountains. 
It's  a  pity  it  should  be  literally  destroyed." 

'The  foliage  will  grow  again,"  Holcomb  responded, 
"but  for  many  years  it  will  be  a  desolate  place,  with 
charred  and  blackened  shrubs  and  trees  that  mar  the 
landscape.  Fire  makes  a  hideous  desolation  when  it 
is  let  loose  in  these  mountains." 

"I  should  think,"  Philip  remarked,  "that  some 
be  found  to  check  these  fires  before  they 


"One  of  those  beautiful  spots  so  common  in  the  mountains  of  Southern 
California.'" — -Page  180 


BY  THE  EVENING  FIRE  181 

have  spread  so  far  and  do  so  much  damage.     What 
do  you  think,  Sefior?" 

"I  believe,"  replied  El  Estranjero  quietly,  "that  in 
the  future  a  way  will  be  found  to  do  so,  or  to  prevent 
them  altogether." 

"That  will  not  be,"  said  Holcomb,  "until  necessity 
compels  the  residents  of  the  valley  to  conserve  the 
entire  water  supply  of  the  mountains  for  use  in 
irrigating  the  plains  below.  It  surely  will  not  be  until 
the  population  of  the  plains  has  increased  to  many 
times  its  present  numbers,  and  no  successful  solution 
of  the  difficulty  need  be  expected  even  then  until  the 
Government  takes  a  hand  in  it.  Now,  the  prairie  fires 
of  the  Middle  West  are  a  different  proposition." 

Alice  settled  herself  more  comfortably,  for  she  saw 
that  a  story  was  forthcoming,  and  this  was  the  time 
and  the  place  for  story-telling.  Holcomb's  life  had 
been  one  of  adventure,  and  his  daughter  and  Philip  in 
their  childhood  had  their  favorite  stories,  which  they 
never  tired  of  hearing.  Alice  knew  what  was  coming, 
and  she  had  always  keenly  enjoyed  this  particular 
story.  Its  appropriateness  in  the  light  of  their  day's 
experiences  made  her  glad  her  father  had  recalled  it 
at  this  particular  moment. 

"In  the  Middle  West,"  Holcomb  began,  "one  oL 
those  fires  that  sweep  over  hundreds  of  miles  of  land,j 
destroying  everything  before  it,  does  much  less  real: 
damage  than  one  in  our  mountains,  unless,  of  course, 
it  is  one  that  passes  through  a  timber  belt.  The  rains' 
are  frequent  there,  and  often  within  ten  days  after  a 


182 


EL  ESTBANJEEO 


fire-stricken  portion  of  the  country  has  been  deluged 
with  rain,  nature  has  restored  its  beauty,  and  the 
smiling  landscape  has  a  carpet  of  green,  completely 
hiding  the  scars  of  the  fire  from  sight." 

"Were  you  ever  in  one  of  those  fires?"  questioned 
El  Estranjero. 

"Yes,  on  the  Des  Plaines  River,  west  of  Chicago, 
I  once  had  such  an  experience.  It  was  in  the  fall, 
and  a  party  of  us,  on  our  way  overland  to  the  West, 
had  camped  on  the  banks  of  the  Des  Plaines.  After 
dark  we  saw  a  curious  glow  upon  the  sky  to  the  west. 
It  had  soon  deepened  into  a  long  red  glare,  extending 
clear  across  the  horizon,  and  we  knew  that  it  was  a 
fire  a  long  distance  away. 

"The  fire  burned  all  that  night,  and  all  of  us  were 
wakeful.  Luckily,  the  wind  had  gone  down  about 
dark,  and  we  hoped  that  the  fire  would  burn  itself  out 
before  it  reached  us.  All  night  the  sky  was  aglow, 
and  we  decided  to  remain  where  we  were  until  we 
were  sure  it  was  burned  out.  About  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning  the  wind  began  to  blow  from  the  west 
at  the  rate  of  about  forty  miles  an  hour.  W7e  saw 
the  blaze  revive  and  leap  forward,  and  we  hastily 
broke  camp  and  retreated  about  two  miles  up  the 
stream  to  a  place  where,  in  crossing  the  day  before,  we 
had  noticed  a  small  wooded  island." 

"Couldn't  you  back-fire?"  questioned  Philip. 

We  might  have  done  so,  but  with  such  a  wind 
blowing  it  would  have  been  a  dangerous  experiment. 

"Well,  by  wading  and  swimming  we  reached  the 


BY  THE  EVENING  FIRE 


183 


island.  Some  of  our  wagons  were  drawn  by  oxen, 
and  we  had  much  trouble  in  getting  these  and  other 
cattle  we  were  driving  across,  but  we  accomplished 
it  at  last,  and  formed  our  wagons  about  in  a  circle 
and  placed  them  within,  so  that  they  could  not  be 
stampeded  by  any  wild  cattle  that  might  cross  to  the 
island  the  way  we  had  come. 

"There  was  plenty  of  fresh  green  grass  here.  It 
covered  the  island,  and  the  green  foliage  was  not  such 
as  would  catch  fire  easily,  either,  so  we  felt  secure  and 
thankful  as  we  watched  the  oncoming  fire,  which  was 
driving  before  it  great  herds  of  buffalo  whose  terrific 
bellowing  filled  us  with  consternation.  If  they  should 
happen  to  come  our  way  the  river  channel  would  not 
save  us. 

"Fortunately  the  herd  was  headed  farther  down  the 
river  and  about  the  place  where  we  had  been  the  night 
before.  They  thundered  on  to  the  bank,  and  if  the 
leaders  of  the  herd  tried  to  stem  the  onward  rush  it 
was  too  late,  as  its  momentum  carried  it  into  the 
stream  until  the  waters  were  full  of  the  drowning 
wretches.  And  still  they  blindly  rushed  to  their  fate 
until  the  river  bed  was  filled  from  shore  to  shore, 
making  a  bridge  of  flesh  for  the  oncoming  of  the 
thousands  to  cross,  and  damming  the  stream  until  it 
overflowed  its  banks." 

"Gimini!"  ejaculated  Philip,  "how  many  do  you 
think  there  were?" 

"We  could  not  estimate  the  number,  but  thousands 
upon  thousands.  Many  wild  creatures  also  came  to 


184 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


the  island  for  safety,  but  were  so  badly  frightened  or 
exhausted  that  they  huddled  in  peace  together.  Even 
predatory  creatures  like  the  prairie  wolf  and  wild 
cat  made  no  attempt  to  appease  their  hunger  upon 
their  natural  prey. 

"That  night  a  doe  lay  under  my  wagon  all  night 
and  some  prairie  dogs  crept  into  the  blankets  of  one 
of  my  companions.  I  tell  you,  if  St.  Patrick  had  been 
on  that  island  he  would  have  lost  his  reputation  if 
he  had  attempted  to  drive  the  snakes  off,  for  there 
were  more  snakes  there  than  any  one  mortal  saint 
could  attend  to.  They  were  so  plentiful  that  we  had 
to  pick  our  way  around  to  keep  from  stepping  upon 
them,  and  they  covered  the  grass  so  that  our  animals 
could  not  eat  until  we  had  driven  the  snakes  aside  so 
they  could  feed. 

"For  the  sake  of  the  creatures  that  had  taken  refuge 
upon  the  island,  as  well  as  for  ourselves,  we  had  hoped 
that  the  river  would  stop  the  progress  of  the  fire,  but 
in  this  we  were  doomed  to  disappointment,  as  the 
fierce  wind  carried  burning  wisps  of  dry  grass  across 
the  river  and  set  the  plain  on  the  opposite  bank  on 
fire  in  a  thousand  places.  The  flames  were  soon  racing 
and  roaring  on  the  east  bank  with  a  fury  unabated 
and  with  no  indication  that  they  would  ever  abate  until 
everything  consumable  had  been  devoured. 

We  alone  were  comparatively  untouched  by  the 
conflagration  that  swept  the  land.  You  can  imagine, 
from  our  experience  to-day,  how  we  suffered  from  the 
smoke  and  heat  that  filled  the  air.  and  how  fortunate 


BY  THE  EVENING  FIRE  185 

we  thought  ourselves  that  our  only  troubles  were  those 
which  grew  out  of  the  proximity  of  creeping  and 
crawling  things. 

"I  didn't  like  to  wake  up  to  find  a  big  gopher  snake 
coiled  upon  my  stomach,  or  to  shake  a  couple  of  more 
venomous  reptiles  out  of  my  shoes  when  I  wanted 
to  use  them  myself  in  the  morning.  It  wasn't  pleasant 
to  feel  field  mice  running  up  your  sleeves  or  to  know 
that  sundry  wild  animals  were  watching  your  every 
movement  from  the  brush. 

"We  knew  we  would  have  to  stay  on  the  island  as 
long  as  there  was  food  if  the  weather  held  clear,  but 
fortunately,  the  next  day  after  the  fire  passed  us,  there 
was  a  soaking  rain  lasting  all  night,  and  three  days 
after  this,  little  blades  of  grass  began  to  prick  their 
spears  through  the  blackened  sod,  and  we  resumed  our 
journey." 

"What  became  of  the  lizards  and  snakes  and  other 
friends  you  left  behind  you?"  asked  El  Estranjero. 

"Oh,  they  had  begun  to  decamp  as  soon  as  the  rain 
ceased,  and  when  we  were  ready  to  start  there  was, 
so  far  as  we  could  determine,  scarcely  a  living  thing 
remaining  on  the  island.  The  little  doe  that  slept 
under  my  wagon  had  become  so  tame  that  it  followed 
us,  but  in  Iowa  we  gave  it  away  to  a  man  by  the 
name  of  Allen,  and  when  I  went  back  East  several 
years  later,  I  found  it  in  the  park  at  Des  Moines, 
living  in  peace  and  plenty." 

Holcomb  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and  put 
it  into  his  pocket,  and  rising,  threw  some  more  wood 


186 


EL  ESTKANJEEO 


upon  the  fire.  The  glow  leaped  up,  casting  weird 
shadows  about  them.  Nawona  was  reclining  against 
the  saddle,  her  gaze  upon  the  flame.  Alice  from  the 
shadow  of  her  sombrero,  which  she  had  pulled  over 
her  forehead  as  if  to  shield  her  eyes  from  the  glare, 
was  watching  the  firelight  upon  Estranjero's  face. 
She  noticed  how  worn  he  looked,  as  though  he  had 
passed  sleepless  nights.  The  gray  eyes  were  sad, 
and  there  was  something  wistful  in  the  set  of  the 
usually  firm  lips.  He  was  off  the  guard  which  he 
had  so  long  maintained  over  his  features,  and  the  girl, 
as  she  guardedly  watched  him,  felt  that  all  was  not 
right  with  him. 

"What  can  it  be/'  she  thought,  "that  troubles  him?" 
Once  during  her  father's  story  he  had  turned  his  gaze 
toward  her  and  there  was  such  yearning  in  the  look, 
such  a  passionate  tenderness  in  his  face  now  that  he 
thought  himself  unobserved,  that  it  brought  back  to 
her  the  song  of  the  mocking  bird,  and  his  cry,  "Alice, 
it  is  my  soul  speaking  to  you,  can  you  not  reply?" 

Then  she  remembered  his  attitude  toward  Nawona, 
the  manner  in  which  they  seemed  always  to  seek  to 
travel  together  and  to  confide  in  each  other,  and  she 
mentally  gave  herself  a  sharp  shaking. 

"Wake  up,  Alice,"  she  said  to  herself,  "your  dream 
is  ended,  your  imagination  is  playing  you  tricks." 

Philip  was  stretched  out  upon  the  ground,  his  elbows 
supporting  his  head,  and  his  feet  away  from  the  fire 
toward  which  the  others  stretched  themselves.  He 
had  chosen  a  place  behind  Alice  and  Nawona,  where 


BY  THE  EVENING  FIRE  187 

by  reaching  out  a  hand  he  could  touch  either.  A  long 
curling  tendril  of  Nawona's  hair  straying  over  the 
saddle  which  served  her  as  a  pillow  almost  touched 
his  hand.  Cautiously  he  drew  its  silken  length  through 
his  fingers,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  A  sudden  move 
ment  of  Nawona's  head  before  he  could  release  the 
tress,  caused  her  to  turn  in  astonishment.  She  laughed 
good-naturedly,  and  Alice,  at  once  divining  what  had 
happened,  tweaked  his  own  waving  forelock  sharply, 
saying,  "There,  you  naughty  boy,  that  is  because  you 
•pulled  Nawona's  hair.  Come  round  by  me,  sir,  where 
I  can  see  what  you  are  doing.  No,  you  don't,"  as  he 
sought  to  escape  her,  "come  right  here,"  and  she 
settled  him,  to  his  great  content,  between  them  upon 
the  blanket,  where  without  moving  he  could  see  every 
expression  upon  the  pretty  face  of  the  now  blushing 
Nawona,  and  as  Alice  sank  down  beside  him,  he  gave 
her  hand  a  grateful  squeeze  and  whispered  to  her, 
"Chummie,  you're  a  good  fellow." 

This  little  stir  now  being  over  and  Holcomb  having 
replenished  the  fire,  Philip  was  determined  to  have 
another  story. 

Truth  to  tell,  Philip  was  not  so  deeply  interested 
in  his  uncle's  narration  as  he  appeared  to  be,  but  he 
was  reclining  only  two  feet  from  Nawona.  He  could 
smell  the  faint  woodland  fragrance  of  her  hair  and 
clothing,  and  could  have  touched  the  slender  brown 
hand  that  lay  beside  her,  if  he  had  but  dared.  This 
was  a  situation  not  to  be  relinquished,  so  he  said, 


188 


EL  ESTRANJEKO 


"Uncle,  tell  us  the  Buffalo  Bill  story.    I  haven't  heard 
it  since  I  was  a  kid." 

"Please  do,  Daddy,"  Alice  pleaded.  El  Estranjero 
and  Nawona  added  their  entreaties,  both  protesting 
when  Holcomb  declared  that  he  feared  the  garrulity 
of  an  old  man  might  weary  them.  So  with  great 
content  Holcomb  settled  himself  and  began. 

"I  was  given  quite  a  scare  some  few  years  later 
when  hunting  with  a  friend.  I  was  with  a  party 
hunting  buffalo,  when  one  of  them,  William  F.  Cody, 
since  famous  as  a  scout  and  hunter  (and  known  all 
over  the  country  as  'Buffalo  Bill')  became  separated 
from  the  rest,  and  the  crack  of  his  rifle  was  all  we 
needed  to  hear  as  evidence  that  he  had  successfully 
bagged  his  buffalo. 

"We  were  all  busy  in  our  camp  on  one  of  the 
numerous  'buttes'  found  in  that  part  of  the  West, 
when  suddenly  one  of  the  party  called  out  Tire.'  In 
a  moment  every  eye  was  turned  in  the  direction  of 
Buffalo  Bill,  and  to  our  horror  we  saw  that  he  was 
already  cut  off  from  our  camp  by  a  prairie  fire  that  we 
had  just  noticed.  Instantly  the  entire  camp  was  all 
excitement,  every  one  suggesting  a  way  to  save  'Bill,' 
as  he  was  familiarly  called.  Up  to  this  time  it  was 
evident  by  his  actions  that  he  did  not  know  of  his 
anger.  He  was  apparently  engaged  in  skinning  the 
dead  buffalo,  and  so  busy  that  he  had  not  looked  up, 
and  consequently  could  not  have  seen  the  fire. 
"Realizing  that  we  could  not  help  him,  I  fired  my 


BY  THE  EVENING  FIRE  189 

rifle  as  a  warning.  He  heard  it,  and  for  the  first 
time  seeing  the  fire,  started  on  a  run  towards  our 
camp,  but  came  only  a  short  distance,  when  he  sud 
denly  stopped,  turned  around,  and  slowly  retraced  his 
steps  to  the  dead  buffalo.  At  this  moment  the  fire  and 
smoke  intervened  and  we  could  see  no  more  of  our 
poor  old  friend  'Bill.' 

"We  were  camped  out  of  range  and  out  of  all  danger 
from  fire,  but  absolutely  helpless  to  aid  our  luckless 
comrade.  After  the  fire  had  swept  past  and  the  ground 
was  sufficiently  cool  to  travel,  'Missouri  Joe,'  as  he  was 
called,  an  old  and  loved  comrade  of  Buffalo  Bill's, 
and  I  saddled  up  our  horses  and  picking  our  way  care 
fully  down  from  the  'Butte'  rode  towards  the  spot 
where  we  had  last  seen  him,  for  the  purpose  of  finding 
his  body  and  giving  him  a  decent  burial. 

"When  we  reached  the  spot,  there  lay  the  dead 
buffalo,  singed  and  black  with  fire  and  smoke,  but  not 
a  sign  of  Buffalo  Bill  or  his  remains.  'He's  wiped 
out,  he's  wiped  out,'  cried  Missouri  Joe,  with  the  tears 
rolling  down  his  cheeks.  'He's  the  squares!  pard  I 
ever  had,  and  he's  passed  in  his  chips.  I  wish  to  God 
that  I  had  been  as  square  with  him.  I  cheated  him  in 
our  last  game  of  poker  and  feel  cursed  mean  about 
it  now.  I  wish  I  could  give  him  back  the  money  I 
took,  I  surely  do,  he's  the  squarest  pard  I  ever  had.' 
'  'Oh,  hold  your  tongue,  won't  you,  and  help  me 
out,'  called  a  smothered  voice  that  sounded  as  though  , 
it  came  from  somewhere  under  the  ground,  and  at 

,3 


190 


EL  ESTBANJEBO 


. 


• 


the  same  time  a  hand  was  thrust  out  from  the  side 
of  the  dead  buffalo  and  waved  for  assistance. 

"  'Help  me  out,  won't  you,  and  do  it  quick,  I'm 
smothering  here.'  Missouri  Joe  sat  back  in  his  saddle 
and  laughed  long  and  loud  and  made  no  move  towards 
assisting  his  old  pard,  as  he  called  him. 

"'Help  me  out,  won't  you?  Stop  your  infernal 
cackling,  won't  you,  and  get  me  out  of  this,  you  old 
sardine/ 

"Still  Missouri  Joe  made  no  move  to  assist  him>  but 
laughed  all  the  louder,  so  I  jumped  from  my  horse 
and  taking  my  hunting  knife,  cut  away  the  front  of 
the  carcass  at  the  opening  that  by  the  action  of  the 
fire  had  become  smaller  since  Bill  had  got  into  it, 
and  helped  him  to  crawl  out.  His  head  covered  with 
grease  which  dripped  from  his  hair  and  saturated  his 
clothes,  gave  him  such  a  ludicrous  appearance  that  I 
could  not  blame  Missouri  Joe  much  for  again  indulging 
in  one  of  his  boisterous  and  prolonged  laughs. 

"Buffalo  Bill  waited  some  time  for  him  to  finish 
laughing,  and  when  that  seemed  useless,  he  turned 
towards  the  carcass,  and,  seizing  his  hunting  knife, 
coolly  resumed  the  operation  of  skinning  the  buffalo. 
When  we  reached  camp  he  related  in  detail  all  that 
had  happened  and  his  thoughts  and  feelings  as  he 
realized  that  he  had  been  cut  off  from  camp  by  the 
fire  and  that  death  stared  him  cruelly  in  the  face.  It 
was  then  he  thought  of  trying  to  save  his  life  by 
removing  the  entrails  of  the  half-skinned  buffalo  and 


BY  THE  EVENING  FIRE 


191 


crawling  inside.  By  pulling  the  hide  down  over  the 
opening  in  the  body,  he  was  able  to  protect  himself 
from  the  flames  on  that  side,  and  suffered  only  from 
heat  and  smoke,  which  for  a  time  were  so  intense  as 
to  almost  suffocate  him." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE    LEGEND   OF    THE    ARROWHEAD 

"Nawona,"  said  Philip,  turning  to  her,  breaking 
the  brief  silence  that  had  fallen  upon  them  when 
Holcomb  finished  his  story,  "y°u  have  been  with  us 
two  weeks  now.  Do  the  ways  of  the  whites  seem 
very  different  from  those  of  the  Indians?  You  have  a 
fair  chance  to  judge  of  us  now,  for  we  are  in  the  same 
surrounding  as  those  in  which  they  live." 

He  spoke  to  her  in  the  corrupted  Spanish  of  the 
Mission  Indians  with  now  and  then  an  Indian  word. 
She  replied  in  the  same  tongue,  but  no  description 
can  give  the  soft  slurring  of  the  terminal  consonants, 
the  musical  lingering  upon  the  vowels,  for  Nawona 
spoke  unlike  an  Indian  and  like  the  Spanish  Senoritas 
of  the  olden  time. 

"Senor  Philip,"  she  said,  her  full  glance  upon  him. 
"One  thing  I  notice  is  that  you  are  gentle  to  women 
and  you  seek  the  best  for  them  always.  I  suppose  it 
is  to  me  to  be  contented,  more  happy  than  I  have  ever 
been  before." 

"Nawona,"  interrupted  Alice,  "Do  you  know  any 
thing  about  your  capture,  how  you  came  to  be  with 
the  Utes?"  *  This  was  the  question  all  had  longed 
to  put  to  the  girl,  but  had  refrained  from  asking, 
thinking  that  should  she  mention  the  subject  they 
would  press  their  queries. 


LEGEND  OF  THE  ARROWHEAD     193 

"I  know  only  what  I  remember  and  what  my  father, 
the  chief,  told  me,"  she  answered. 

"Tell  us  what  you  know,  Nawona,"  El  Estranjero 
urged. 

The  girl  sat  up,  her  arms  clasped  about  her  knees, 
and  gazed  hard  into  the  fire. 

"I  was  a  very  little  girl,  so  high,  maybe  five  sum 
mers,  when  I  remember  first  the  Utes.  I  had  been 
sleeping,  and  my  mother's  cry  awakened  me,  and 
scared  me  so  much  that  I  think  it  is  why  I  remember." 

"Your  mother,"  cried  Alice  in  surprise,  "was  she, 
too,  among  the  Utes  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Senorita." 

"Go  on,"  said  Alice,  while  the  others  listened  with 
almost  breathless  attention. 

"It  was  morning,  we  were  in  the  woods,  and  there 
was  a  camp  fire.  It  was  summer  and  it  had  been 
raining,  for  all  was  wret,  and  I  noticed  my  own 
clothing  was  soaked,  and  I  cried  out  and  wept,  for  I 
was  afraid  as  my  mother  shrieked. 

"She  was  kneeling  beside  me,  and  my  Ute  father 
spoke  to  her.  I  do  not  know  what  he  said,  I  was  too 
young  to  understand  or  to  remember,  but  my  mother 
shrieked  again  and  again.  'No!  No!  No!'  Long  the 
chief,  my  father,  spoke  to  her,  and  there  were  other 
Indians,  and  some  were  Apaches  and  some  were  Utes, 
and  the  others  went  away  through  the  woods  and  the 
Utes  waited  while  my  father,  the  chief,  spoke  with 
my  mother. 

"Still   at   everything   he  said   she  cried   out,   'No!' 


194 


EL  ESTBANJEEO 


and  again  'No!'  and  then  she  clung  to  me  and  sat 
down  upon  the  ground,  her  long  hair  all  wet  and  her 
face  very  pale. 

"The  chief,  my  father,  then  signaled  two  of  his 
men.  They  came  and  took  me  away  from  her  and 
I  wept.  Then  they  tied  her  hands  and  feet  and  they 
made  a  litter  of  green  boughs,  and  they  placed  her  on 
it,  and  carried  us,  me  with  her. 

"Many  times  I  remember  the  camp  fire  and  the 
woods  and  then  the  desert  and  the  woods  again,  but 
it  is  all  like  a  dream  of  the  night." 

Nawona  was  silent,  then  Philip  recalled  her  from 
~Jier  reverie. 

"Tell  us  what  else  you  remember,  Nawona,  for  we 
may  be  able  to  find  some  of  your  people." 

"A  long  time  we  stayed  in  one  place,  and  my  mother 
ceased  to  weep  and  she  sat  in  the  wickiup  of  my 
father,  but  she  never  smiled  and  she  talked  strange 
things  even  in  the  nighttime,  and  sang  snatches  of 
strange  songs.  She  would  not  speak  to  me  to  answer 
my  questions,  but  always  said  something  strange. 
Then  they  told  me  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  and  had  taken  away  her  grief  and 
that  she  was  sacred,  and  none  touched  her  as  she 
came  and  went  and  all  brought  her  food." 

"She  was  crazed,"  Holcomb  explained.  "The 
Indians  never  harm  a  deranged  person,  and  many  a 
man  has  saved  his  life  when  taken  captive  by  them  by 
feigning  to  be  demented." 

"But  with  my  mother  it  was  always  so.    Sometimes 


LEGEND  OF  THE  ARROWHEAD      195 


when  we  were  alone  she  would  not  know  who  I  was, 
and  would  drive  me  away  from  her,  and  sometimes 
she  would  shriek  for  hours  together;  then  they  would 
tie  her  hands  and  feet  and  lay  her  on  the  ground  till 
she  was  calm  again.  So  she  was  for  three  summers. 
Then  she  died,  and  the  chief  took  from  her  this,"  and 
Nawona  drew  from  her  bosom  the  golden  disk  and 
passed  it  to  Mr.  Holcomb,  who  looked  at  it  curiously, 
turning  it  about  and  noticing  the  sparkling  diamonds. 
The  trinket  was  quickly  passed  from  hand  to  hand 
and  eagerly  examined.  Then  Nawona  replaced  it 
about  her  neck  by  the  thong  from  which  it  depended 
and  again  hid  it  in  her  bosom. 

"And  is  that  all?"  Philip  asked. 

"That  is  all,"  said  Nawona.  Again  all  were  silent. 
Then  Estranjero  said  to  Nawona : 

"Tell  us — will  you  not — the  little  story  you  told 
to  me  the  other  day  about  the  Arrowhead?" 

"But  I  speak  too  much,"  returned  Nawona.  "It 
is  not  good  that  a  woman  should  do  so  very  much 
speaking." 

"That  is  one  of  the  notions  that  you  got  from  the 
Indians,"  laughed  Philip.  "You  will  soon  learn  when 
you  have  lived  with  us  for  a  while,  that  nothing  is 
more  becoming  to  a  woman  than  to  do  the  greater 
part  of  the  talking." 

She  looked  at  him  in  some  bewilderment,  and  then 
Estranjero  again  interrupted. 

"Tell  us,  Nawona,  the  story  of  the  Arrowhead. 
Perhaps  our  friends  have  heard  it  before,  perhaps  not." 


196 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


"This  is  the  story  as  I  have  often  heard  it  told  by 
the  Indians."  said  Nawona,  as  she  lay  back  upon  the 
blanket,  her  head  pillowed  upon  the  saddle,  looking 
out  into  the  starlight  night  and,  as  she  spoke,  watching 
the  flickering  shadows  of  the  camp  fire. 

"Long  ago,  before  the  Spaniards  came  to  the  land 
of  the  Southwest,  the  valley  was  inhabited  by  a  tribe 
of  Indians  who  had  come  from  the  far  East.  They 
had  been  driven  from  their  homes  by  fierce  enemies 
and  had  come  across  the  savage  plains  and  the  fearful 
deserts,  led  by  the  great  Sun  God,  whom  they  wor 
shiped,  and  here  they  had  found  a  beautiful  green 
valley. 

"In  this  valley  of  sparkling  streams,  shady  trees, 
and  fertile  pastures,  they  saw  the  land  of  promise 
which  they  had  been  seeking,  and,  building  their  camp 
fires,  set  up  their  brush  and  tule  huts.  Undisturbed 
by  their  neighbors,  they  dwelt  in  peace,  with  plenty 
all  about  them.  The  men  found  small  game,  snakes, 
rabbits,  squirrels,  and  deer;  there  were  many  grizzly 
and  black  bear  in  the  mountains,  too,  which  came 
down  into  the  valley  in  search  of  buds  and  berries. 
The  hunters,  however,  never  touched  them,  for  the 
bear  is  a  brother,  and  under  the  protection  of  the 
gods;  ill  would  befall  the  daring  one  who  did  him 
harm  or  ate  his  flesh.  The  mountain  lion,  also,  was 
a  brother,  and  they  crouched  in  silent  fear  when  its 
snarl  echoed  from  mountain  to  hillside. 

"The  hunters  went  to  the  seashore  to  seek  for  flints 
and  the  hard  woods  which  they  used  in  their  crafts. 


LEGEND  OF  THE  AEEOWHEAD      197 

They  shaped  their  arrows  and  clubs,  bent  their  bows, 
retold  the  tales  of  their  fathers,  danced,  played,  and 
were  happy. 

'The  women  of  the  tribe  found  the  hours  pleasant, 
too.  In  this  genial  climate,  amid  kindly  breezes,  they 
found  abundant  acorns,  seeds  and  roots.  They  made 
baskets  in  which  to  keep  their  supplies  and  clothing 
of  skins  and  fibers;  they  pounded  boulders  into  mills 
and  mortars,  and  sometimes  they  sported  with  their 
lords,  the  braves  of  the  tribe.  Happily  the  years 
slipped  by,  and  the  dwellers  of  the  valley  grew  fat  in 
contentment  and  peace.  In  prosperity  and  comfort 
they  forgot  the  Guiding  Spirit  that  had  led  them  safely 
from  fierce  foes  through  fiercer  deserts  into  a  land  of 
plenty  and  quiet.  They  ceased  to  offer  their  sacrifices 
and  neglected  the  sacred  rites  of  their  fathers. 

"Their  great  father,  the  Sun  God,  grew  angry  at 
this  ingratitude.  He  caused  the  sun  to  send  fiercer 
rays  down  upon  them  to  remind  them  of  him.  But 
they  had  forgotten  his  power;  they  only  murmured, 
'Soon  the  rains  will  come.'  Then  he  dried  up  the 
rain  clouds;  he  caught  up  the  ocean  fogs  that  rolled 
inland  and  pressed  them  to  his  arms ;  he  dried  up  the 
dews  of  Heaven  before  they  touched  the  parching 
land. 

"The   flowers   and   grasses    that   had   covered    the 
mountain  slopes  and  the  valleys  were  burned   crisp  | 
and  black ;  the  streams  ceased  to  flow  and  the  springs  i| 
became  dry  mud  holes;  the  leaves  on  the  trees  dried 
and  curled  up  under  the  feverish  touch  of  the  Sun 


198 


EL  ESTRANJEBO 


God.  Animals  died  or  hid  in  the  depths  of  the  earth 
or  mountains,  and  birds  fled  over  the  highest  peaks. 
Day  after  day  the  people  gazed  into  the  vast  blueness 
of  the  sky  and  prayed  the  Sun  God  to  relent;  they 
now  recalled  his  power  and  his  past  service,  and  they 
prostrated  themselves  before  him  in  entreaty.  Men, 
women,  and  children  began  to  die  of  thirst,  crying 
in  madness  for  water — one  cooling  drop  of  water. 

"The  chiefs  of  the  tribe  gathered  and  held  solemn 
councils.  They  recollected  all  of  the  ceremonials  of 
their  fathers  and  now  performed  them  all.  Day  and 
night  they  prayed  and  danced  and  offered  gifts  and 
worked  charms.  Yet  the  Sun  God  poured  out  his 
merciless  brilliance  upon  them,  and  not  even  the 
darkness  of  the  night  could  cool  the  earth  or  bring 
refreshment  to  the  men. 

"At  last  Council,  the  eldest  and  the  wisest  of  the 
medicine  men,  arose,  and  with  the  uplifted  eyes  and 
face  of  the  prophet,  he  spoke:  'Oh,  Chief,  it  is  for 
thee  to  give  thy  most  cherished  treasure;  thus  ifstands 
revealed — that  which  thou  worshipest  in  thine  heart 
more  than  the  gods  themselves.'  The  chief  lifted  his 
drawn,  sun-scalded  face,  and  asked,  hoarsely:  'And 
what  is  that,  may  I  ask?  Have  I  not  sacrificed  my 
home  and  my  stores  ?  My  most  cherished  relics  have 
I  offered  and  my  body.'  He  showed  his  lacerated 
flesh  and  his  bleeding  hands.  His  emaciated  limbs 
and  wasted  body  were  as  a  spectre  of  a  man  long 
dead,  but  Council  spoke  once  more.  Thou  hast  thy 
daughter  Nan-pen-ga,  sister  of  the  arrow.' 


LEGEND  OF  THE  ARROWHEAD     199 

"Then  the  chief  dropped  his  head  upon  his  breast 
and  tears  that  were  as  fire  drops  burned  his  eyes.  And 
the  other  wise  men  all  cried  aloud,  with  hard,  harsh 
voices:  'It  is  true.  The  Sun  God  demands  thy 
daughter.  Only  that  highest  sacrifice  will  ever  appease 
his  wrath.  The  chief  sat  long  with  bowed  head. 
Then  he  rose  and  descended  the  hill  to  the  great, 
gaunt,  leafless  sycamore,  underneath  which  his 
daughter  and  the  women  of  the  tribe  lay  with  out 
stretched  arms,  and  in  panting  whispers  were  beseech 
ing  mercy  for  the  people.  The  chief  bent  down  and 
touched  his  daughter's  shoulder.  She  lifted  her  head 
and  met  his  eyes.  Silently  she  rose  and  followed  him 
back  up  the  hill  to  the  circle  of  councilman.  'Here 
is  my  daughter,  my  Nan-pen-ga.  Do  with  her  as  the 
gods  direct,'  he  said.  'Nay,'  the  old  men  replied, 
still  standing,  'it  is  thy  hand,  oh  Chief,  that  must  save 
the  people.' 

"Nan-pen-ga,  tall  and  straight  and  beautiful  as  the 
dreams  of  youth,  although  the  flesh  of  her  rounded 
limbs  had  been  eaten  up  by  hunger  and  the  skin  of  her 
face  dried  and  darkened  by  the  awful  heat,  looked  at 
the  old  men,  then  she  turned  a  questioning  eye  upon 
the  grief-stricken  face  of  her  father.  She  understood. 
She  glanced  upward  to  the  cruel  ball  of  fire  that 
glowed  fiercely,  exultingly  in  the  heavens,  then  she 
gazed  across  the  barren,  scorched  waste  where  had 
been  the  fair  green  valley  of  sheltered  homes.  She 
threw  back  her  long,  unbound  locks  and  said :  'Come, 


200 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


my  father,  I  am  glad  if  it  is  for  me  to  appease  the 
wrath  that  destroys  us.  Come!' 

"The  old  chiefs  rose  and  formed  a  circle;  the  young 
braves  came  and  brought  dry  sticks  and  built  a  pyre. 
With  his  own  hands  the  father  bound  the  slender 
wrists  and  ankles  of  his  child  and  laid  her  upon  the 
cruel  bed.  Then  he  struck  the  spark  from  the  flint 
and  watched  the  curling  flame  leap  up  to  play  with  her 
soft  hair.  As  the  smoke  rose  from  the  sacrificing  fire, 
it  floated  high  and  spread  until  it  darkened  the 
heavens  and  shut  out  the  ferocious  glare  of  the  sun. 
The  darkness  grew  denser  and  at  last  a  dazzling  flash 
of  light  leaped  out  of  the  threatening  cloud  and  a 
deep  reverberating  peal  of  thunder  rolled  solemnly  from 
mountain  to  mountain.  The  people  fell  upon  their 
faces,  shrieking  in  terror.  Then  the  long  pent  up 
waters  descended. 

"The  sun-cracked  earth  swallowed  them;  the  thirst- 
parched  Indians  drank  them  down;  the  dry  stream 
beds  caught  them  and  swirled  back  full;  the  dusty 
springs  bubbled  and  foamed;  the  birds  returned  and 
the  animals  crept  forth  to  new  life. 

"When  the  earth  had  been  drenched  and  was  cool 
and  water-soaked,  when  at  last  the  clouds  lifted  again 
and  rolled  away  above  the  mountain  tops,  the  people 
beheld  blazed  upon  the  mountain  side,  a  great  white 
arrowhead.  The  old  prophet  gazed  at  the  token  thus 
delivered,  and  then  once  more  the  insight  of  vision 
was  given  to  him.  'Behold/  he  cried,  pointing  to  the 
emblem,  'it  is  a  sign,  a  promise.  Because  of  the 


LEGEND  OF  THE  AEROWHEAD     201 


sacrifice  of  Nan-pen-ga,  sister  of  the  arrow,  never 
again  will  the  Sun  God  so  devastate  the  land.  Hence 
forth  perpetually  shall  flow  the  stream  and  murmur 
the  springs  from  this  mountain  side.'  The  light  died 
out  of  his  hollow  eyes,  the  life  died  from  his  palsied 
form,  and  the  old  seer  sank  to  the  earth  to  rise 
no  more." 

Nawona  told  this  tale  with  a  dramatic  intensity  that 
thrilled  her  little  audience.  When  it  was  done  she 
lay  quite  still,  and  Philip,  reaching  over  in  the  dark, 
found  the  slender  brown  hand,  raised  it  to  his  lips  and 
kissed  it. 

"Oh!"  cried  the  girl,  springing  to  her  feet. 

"What  is  it?"  cried  Alice. 

"Nothing,"  Nawona  replied,  "nothing  Senorita," 
but  she  did  not  resume  her  place  upon  the  blanket. 
With  down-dropped  eyes,  she  sank  upon  the  ground 
beside  El  Estranjero  and  leaned  wearily  against  his 
shoulder. 

"She  has  given  me  my  answer,"  said  Philip  to 
himself,  and  in  a  few  minutes  strolled  out  of  the  circle 
of  the  firelight  and  making  his  camp  near  where  Jose 
had  tethered  the  horses,  soon  slept,  for  even  the  pangs  { 
of  disappointed  love  sometimes  yield  to  the  fatigue  of 
hearty  youth. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

AN  UNDERSTANDING 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  last  day  in  the  mountains. 
The  travelers  had  been  astir  since  daybreak,  and  now 
the  pack  was  made  up,  the  horses  ready,  and  the  two 
girls  were  in  the  saddle  waiting  the  word  to  start. 

El  Estranjero  had  tightened  the  girth  of  Nawona's 
saddle,  and  now  had  stepped  to  Alice's  side  and  with 
his  hand  upon  her  horse's  mane  stood,  with  his  hat 
in  his  hand,  his  forehead  bared  to  the  cool  breeze. 
As  Alice  looked  down,  his  eyes  were  raised  and  met 
hers  and  held  their  gaze.  A  long,  long  glance,  in 
which  each  seemed  to  forget  for  the  moment  the 
barriers  between  them — then  Alice  colored  to  the 
roots  of  her  hair,  and  giving  her  horse  a  sharp  cut 
with  her  quirt  rode  off,  calling  to  Nawona : 

"Come,  let  us  see  the  sun  rise  from  the  ridge  yonder, 
while  the  others  are  getting  ready." 

El  Estranjero  felt  as  though  the  quirt  had  descended 
upon  his  own  spirit,  and  the  tears  rushed  to  Nawona's 
eyes  as  she  saw  the  look  upon  his  face.  Impulsively 
she  moved  her  horse  toward  him  and  put  out  her  hand. 

"Do  not  mind,  Estranjero,"  she  half  whispered. 

He  raised  the  kind  little  hand  to  his  lips,  and  Philip, 
who  had  just  turned  from  arranging  the  pack  on  the 
pack  horse,  saw  the  action  and  noticed  that  Nawona 
did  not  seem  angry  as  she  was  the  night  before,  when 

[202] 


AN  UNDERSTANDING  203 

he  had  committed  the  same  indiscretion,  but  that  she 
rode  away  smiling,  and  even  turned  to  wave  that  same 
coveted  little  hand  to  his  rival. 

Over  the  first  range  the  sun  was  just  rising,  piercing 
the  translucent  atmosphere  with  golden  beams  and 
lighting  up  the  nearer  mountains  and  the  distant 
valley.  The  two  girls  watched  the  scene  with  delight, 
their  eyes  taking  in  the  glory  of  the  mountain  and 
peaceful  valley,  and  even  the  broad  Pacific  Ocean 
beyond,  all  a  part  of  this  picture. 

On  a  plateau,  just  at  their  feet,  were  two  deer 
playfully  knocking  their  horns  together  in  a  mimic 
battle,  and  far  above  the  plain,  in  the  distance,  circled 
the  stately  and  graceful  buzzard,  the  condor  of  the 
northern  hemisphere.  It  was  almost  with  regret  that 
they  turned  at  last  to  the  trail  that  would  take  them 
over  the  range  to  the  Mountain  Home  and  down  the 
winding  course  of  a  clear  cool  rivulet  to  the  foothills 
and  the  valley  below  and  so  home. 

All  through  the  morning  the  two  girls  rode,  hardly 
exchanging  a  word.  Nawona  was  puzzling  herself 
over  Alice's  evident  dislike  for  El  Estranjero,  and 
Alice  was  blaming  herself  for  an  abruptness  in  which 
she  feared  he  saw  her  real  feelings.  Philip  was  glum,  f| 
El  Estranjero  abstracted,  and  only  old  Jose  and 
Mr.  Holcomb  were  their  usual  cheerful  selves. 

When  the  party  stopped  at  midday,  and  Jose  was 
gathering  leaves  and  brushwood  for  a  fire,  Philip  said 
to  Nawona,  who  was  idly  leaning  against  a  tree 
watching  the  preparations  for  the  camp : 


204 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


"Nawona,  have  you  ever  made  a  fire  without 
matches  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Senor,"  she  responded,  "that  is  easily 
done." 

"I  have  heard  so,"  replied  Philip,  "but  I  have  always 
doubted  it." 

"Senor  shall  doubt  no  longer,  but  he  must  have 
patience.  Come  and  I  will  make  fire  without  matches." 

Glad  that  she  had  apparently  forgiven  his  blunder 
of  the  night  before,  he  followed  her  as  she  selected  two 
dry  sticks.  Gathering  some  dead  leaves,  she  squatted 
on  the  ground,  Philip  at  her  side.  With  a  swift  twirly 
motion,  she  rubbed  the  two  sticks  against  each  other 
patiently  and  without  ceasing  for  fully  fifteen  minutes, 
when  to  Philip's  great  delight  the  dead  leaves  kindled 
into  a  roaring  flame. 

"Let  me  see  if  I  can  do  it,"  he  said,  and,  gathering 
some  leaves  and  selecting  two  dry  sticks,  he  began, 
but  he  lacked  the  patience  necessary  for  the  test,  and 
Nawona  laughed  teasingly  as  he  threw  away  the  stick 
with  a  pettish  exclamation  and  answered  her  laugh 
with  his  own. 

Jose  brought  his  brushwood  to  their  blaze,  and  while 
the  dinner  was  being  cooked,  Philip's  step  kept  pace 
almost  unconsciously  with  Nawona's,  as  she  strolled 
down  to  a  little  stream  upon  the  bank  of  which  she 
knelt  and  bathed  her  flushed  face  and  dabbled  her 
!  brown  hands  in  the  water. 

Alice   had   watched    them    trifling   with    the    dry 


AN  UNDERSTANDING  205 

sticks,   and  discreetly  kept  her  distance  as  she  saw 
them  pass  under  the  trees. 

"Poor  Laddie,"  she  said  to  herself,  "he  knows  he 
is  riding  for  a  fall,  but  let  him  enjoy  himself  while 
he  can." 

Philip  noticed  with  delight  Nawona's  total  absence 
of  self-consciousness  while  she  made  her  simple  toilet, 
and  then  he  wondered  why  she  should  so  resent  his 
impulse  of  the  night  before.  He  resolved  while  she 
was  in  a  relenting  mood  toward  him  to  make  what 
explanation  he  could. 

It  seemed  hard  to  find  a  way  to  begin,  but  at  last 
Nawona  ceased  dabbling  her  hands  in  the  water,  and 
sat  looking  almost  pensively  down  the  way  they  had 
just  come. 

"Is  Nawona  sad?"  Philip  inquired. 

"A  little,  Senor.     These  mountains  are  the  home  S^  ; 
I  have  so  long  known.     I  go  from  them  out  into  a 
world  that  is  new  and  strange." 

"There  are  many  kind  hearts  there,  Nawona." 

"Yes,  Senor,  I  know  there  must  be,  for  already  I 
have  found  so  much  kindness." 

"Then  you  should  cheer  up,  Nawona ;  you  will  soon 
know  the  ways  of  the  world,  and,"  a  little  bitterly, 
"you  will  learn  to  hide  your  feelings,  to  say  'yes'  when 
you  mean  'no'  and  'no'  when  you  mean  'yes,'  and  be 
like  the  rest  of  them." 

"But  why  should  I  do  that,  Senor?     My  tongue  is 
not  crooked  nor  my  heart  dark.     I  will  say  what 
mean." 


206 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


"Do  you  do  that  now?" 

"Always,  Sefior,"  she  replied,  opening  her  eyes 
widely  at  him  in  an  astonishment  that  made  her  look 
almost  childish. 

"Good,  then,"  said  Philip,  "then  you  must  say  it 
now.  Do  you  hate  me,  Nawona?" 

"I  hate  you?"  said  the  startled  girl. 

"But  do  you?"  he  persisted. 

"Oh,  no,  and  again  no,"  she  said  earnestly,  clasp 
ing  her  hands  and  pressing  them  tightly  over  her 
heart. 

"Oh,  Senor  Philip,  how  unhappy  am  I  if  I  have 
made  you  think  me  so  wicked.  Who  was  it  that 
saved  me  from  death  in  the  desert?  Who  was  it  that 
brought  me  over  the  many  weary  miles  to  his  people  ? 
I  hate  you?  Oh!  Senor,  no,  no." 

And  she  pressed  her  hands  suddenly  to  her  face,  and 
broke  into  sobs. 

"I  am  a  brute,"  said  Philip  in  disgust  with  himself; 
"I  am  a  clumsy  brute,  Nawona.  There,  there,  little 
one."  He  attempted  to  remove  her  hands,  but  Nawona 
wept  all  the  more  freely. 

"Poor  little  girl,"  said  Philip,  "Stop!  stop!  or  by 
Jove,  I'll  jump  into  the  water  and  drown  myself." 

This  brought  Nawona's  hands  down  at  once,  and 
she  looked  at  him  through  her  tears  with  terror. 

"Senor!"  she  cried,  but  Philip  could  stand  no 
more.  He  gathered  her  into  his  arms  and  kissed  the 
tear-stained  face,  the  curling  hair,  the  slender  hands. 
,"Nawona,  wild  rose  of  the  desert,"  he  whispered, 


AN  UNDERSTANDING 


207 


"I  am  sick  with  loving  you.  All  these  long  days  and 
nights  I  have  so  hungered  to  hold  you  here  that  I 
must  just  this  once,  even  if  you  should  hate  me  for 
doing  so.  Oh,  Nawona,  I  love  you,  I  love  you. 
Surely  your  heart  tells  you  what  love  is,  though  you 
know  nothing  of  the  ways  of  the  world;  love  is  the 
way  of  life." 

Nawona  hid  her  face  against  him  and  wept  again. 

"Oh,  little  Nawona/'  Philip  pleaded,  "I  have  grieved 
and  frightened  you,  and  now  you  weep  and  hide  your 
face  from  me.  But  weep  there,  little  one,  and  I  wish  / 
that  all  your  sorrows  all  your  life  might  be  wept  out 
always  here  upon  my  heart,  but  I  know  whom  you 
love,  Nawona,  and  he  is  a  better  man  than  myself, 
nobler  in  every  way  and  worthy." 

At  this  Nawona  raised  her  head  and  looked  at 
Philip. 

"Of  whom  does  Sefior  speak?"  she  said  wonderingly. 

"  'Of  whom  does  he  speak/  you  little  coquette,"  he 
said  almost  angrily,  holding  her  at  arm's  length  and 
gazing  into  her  wet  eyes.  "Of  whom  else  but  of 
El  Estranjero?  You  are  his  shadow.  To  him  you 
flee  if  I  but  touch  your  hand;  to  him  you  talk  for 
hours,  when  to  me  you  give  only  the  shortest  sentences 
with  downcast  eyes." 

"Surely,"  Nawona  answered,  "the  Sefior  does  not 
think  that  I  love  El  Estranjero  other  than  as  in  place 
of  the  father  that  lies  buried  in  the  desert  sand." 

"Nawona!"  cried  Philip,  joyfully,  drawing  her  to 
him  again,  "is  that  the  truth?" 


208 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


"Did  I  not  tell  the  Senor  that  Nawona  speaks 
always  truly?" 

"Then,  Nawona,  tell  me  instantly  what  you  think 
of  me/'  cried  the  impetuous  Philip. 

The  girl  cast  down  her  eyes,  a  rosy  blush  stealing 
to  her  temples. 

"Speak  to  me,  Nawona." 

Still  she  said  nothing,  but  now  she  struggled  to  free 
herself  from  him. 

"Let  me  go,  Senor,"  she  almost  whispered. 

Philip  grew  white  now  and  his  voice  was  almost 
solemn. 

"Nawona,"  he  said,  lifting  her  face  so  that  she  was 
compelled  to  look  at  him,  "do  you  think  you  could 
love  me?" 

Still  no  answer. 

"Tell  me,  Nawona,  Yes  or  No?" 

"But,  Senor,  Senorita  Alice?" 

"Well,  what  of  Alice?" 

"Have  I  not  seen  you  kiss  her  and  hold  her  as  one 
holds  a  sweetheart?" 

"Never,"  denied  Philip,  hotly. 

"Why,  Senor  Philip,  when  she  came  the  first  time !" 

"Oh,"  he  said,  much  relieved,  "do  you  not  know 
that  Alice  and  I  grew  up  in  the  same  house  like  brother 
and  sister,  that  we  are  own  blood  cousins  ?  That's  the 
reason  I  kissed  her." 

"So?"  breathed  Nawona. 

"And  now,  Nawona,"  said  Philip,  a  new  serious 
ness  in  his  manner,  "I  may  have  taken  an  unfair 


AN  UNDEKSTANDING  209 

advantage  of  you;  I  presume  I  have.  You  will  see 
many  men,  many  who  are  better  looking  and  better 
in  every  way  than  I  am.  It  was  wrong  of  me  to  talk 
to  you  as  I  have,  and  I  am  ashamed  of  myself.  I  will 
wait  until  you  see  others.  I  will  give  you  time  to 
know  yourself.  Forgive  me,  Nawona.  Yes,  you 
may  go."  And  he  released  her  and  turned  away 
gloomily. 

He  thought  she  had  gone,  and  sinking  down  upon 
the  grass  was  staring  into  the  water.  Suddenly  he 
felt  a  breath  upon  his  cheek,  then  Nawona's  blushing 
face  was  bent  to  his,  her  red  lips  pressed  his  forehead. 

"Philip,"  she  breathed  softly,  "if  I  should  see  all 
the  world  of  men,  I  should  love  only  you."  Before 
he  could  say  a  word  or  raise  his  hand  to  stay  her, 
she  was  speeding  back  to  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  IN  CAMP 

Alice  was  sound  asleep  when  Nawona  reached  the 
camp,  and  the  girl  sat  down  demurely,  glad  that  her 
kindly  eyes  were  not  on  the  alert  to  notice  her 
excitement.  Sitting  there,  her  cheeks  gradually  cooled 
and  her  pulses  steadied,  so  that  when  Alice,  after  a 
half  hour,  sleepily  opened  her  eyes,  yawned,  and  sat 
up,  Nawona  could  smile  at  her  with  all  her  usual 
composure. 

Alice  wondered  what  Philip  had  said  to  the  girl,  but 
had  no  suspicion  of  the  real  state  of  things.  Philip 
and  Nawona  each  by  a  tacit  agreement,  made  in  a 
swift  glance  as  they  sat  down  to  partake  of  the  viands 
Jose  had  prepared,  had  agreed  to  keep  their  secret. 
Philip  had  looked  questioningly  toward  Alice,  but 
i  Nawona  had  shaken  her  head  slightly,  and  Philip 
understood.  This  was  to  be  their  own  sweet  secret, 
j  cherished  together  and  kept  from  others. 

With  a  lover's  selfishness,  he  quite  forgot  his  sus 
picions  that  Alice  loved  El  Estranjero,  and  that  a 
word  from  him  might  straighten  the  tangle  in  her 
mind.  He  had  thought  only  of  himself  and  Nawona,, 
and  his  thoughts  lent  wings  of  joy  to  his  feet  as  he 
toiled  over  the  trail  that  afternoon. 

At  sunset  they  reached  the  first  plateau  above  the 
^  plain.  Philip  was  in  the  van  and  the  others  following, 

• 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  IN  CAMP         211 


Indian  file.  The  valley  below  lay  stretched  out  before 
them  in  all  its  beauty.  From  this  point  the  mountains 
could  be  seen  from  the  foot  of  Old  Baldy  to  the 
snow-covered  top  of  San  Jacinto,  while  to  the  west, 
in  the  peaceful  glow  and  under  the  magic  touch  of  the 
setting  sun,  lay  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

As  they  gazed  upon  this  scene  of  loveliness,  all 
were  impressed  as  never  before  with  a  sense  of 
gratitude  that  they  had  been  permitted  to  live  in  a 
country  of  such  surpassing  grandeur.  Best  of  all  were 
these  gray  old  mountains,  whose  summits  pierced  the 
sky,  standing  as  a  steady  bulwark  between  desert  and 
valley,  guarding  the  beauty  of  the  one  from  the 
blighting  breath  of  the  other. 

As  night  came  on,  the  travelers  turned  reluctantly 
away  from  this  entrancing  scene  to  seek  a  convenient 
place  for  their  camp,  and  in  a  short  time  the  horses 
were  picketed  and  the  party  assembled  about  the 
camp  fire. 

Alice's  mind  was  full  of  the  beauty  of  that  day's 
journey.  She  thought  of  the  lights  and  shadows  cast 
by  the  afternoon  sun  beneath  the  oaks  and  pines, 
with  all  the  varying  tints  of  the  forest  scene,  and  these 
blending  together  in  her  pleasing  reverie  made  a 
picture  never  to  be  forgotten. 

"Is  there  any  one,"  she  thought,  "who  has  partaken 
of  the  tonic  of  an  outdoor  life  in  these  beautiful 
mountains  who  is  ever  perfectly  contented  to  again 
assume  the  duties  and  obligations  demanded  by  society? 


ESTBANJERO 


I,  for  one,  would  much  rather  listen  to  these  whispering 
pines  than  to  hear  the  most  ravishing  music." 

This  was  their  very  last  night;  after  to-morrow, 
perhaps,  everything  would  be  different.  Their  little 
company  had  been  ideally  congenial,  they  had  come  so 
close  to  one  another's  souls  in  this  wilderness,  but 
to-morrow — 

"Daddy,"  Alice  said,  putting  her  arms  about  her 
father,  and  leaning  upon  his  breast,  as  he  sat  by  the 
fire  after  supper,  "Daddy,  let's  live  up  here  in  the 
woods  all  the  time." 

"Why,  Lassie,  what  an  idea!" 

"Yes,  Daddy,  let's  stay  up  here  and  be  happy,  and 
not  go  down  there  in  the  valley  where  we  have  to  sleep 
under  roofs  and  eat  at  tables,  and — "  she  laughed  as 
she  looked  down  at  her  soiled  and  crumpled  riding 
dress,  "and  wear  clothes.  Daddy,  I've  never  been  so 
happy  before  in  all  my  life.  Let's  stay  up  here  in  the 
woods." 

"I  am  glad  you've  enjoyed  it,  Lassie.  By  rights 
you  should  have  had  all  sorts  of  trials,  and  should 
have  been  sorry  a  thousand  times  that  you  did  not  stay 
at  home,  as  Daddy  said  you  must."  And  he  pinched 
her  ear  playfully. 

"Well,  this  night  must  be  a  happy  one,  the  very 
best  of  all.  Daddy,  you  trot  out  the  best  story  you 
know,  and  to-night,"  she  playfully  menaced  him  with 
her  slender  forefinger,  "to-night,  Sefior  Daddy,  the 
story  must  be  one  that  none  of  us  has  ever  before 
heard." 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  IN  CAMP 


213 


"Dear  me,  what  a  dragon  of  a  daughter,"  laughed 
her  father.  Then  he  cudgeled  his  brain.  "Ah,  I  have 
it,  but  I  can't  tell  you  the  story  till  Jose  gets  through." 

They  sat  chatting  about  the  fire  till  Jose,  having 
finished  his  task,  took  his  blanket  a  couple  of  hundred 
feet  away,  near  where  the  horses  were  picketed,  and 
lay  down  for  the  night. 

"Now,  Daddy,  begin,"  said  Alice,  and  Holcomb 
related  the  following: 

"D(o  you  see  that  clump  of  trees  at  the  point  of  the 
hill  over  there?" 

They  all  looked  and  confessed  they  could  see  it. 

"Well,  about  fifteen  years  ago,  I  heard  that  Seth 
Holbrook  had  been  hurt  in  a  mine  accident,  and  I 
was  riding  up  to  see  him.  It  was  nearly  dark  when 
I  reached  that  point,  and  I  quickened  my  pace  into  a 
canter.  At  that  moment  a  sharp  report  rang  out  on 
the  still  night  air,  and  a  bullet  whizzed  so  close  to  me 
that  it  chipped  a  piece  from  the  pommel  of  my  saddle. 
Frightened  by  the  report  or  irritated  by  the  touch  of 
the  spur,  Black  Bess  took  the  bit  between  her  teeth 
and  bolted  toward  the  mountain.  It  was  some  minutes 
before  I  could  pull  her  down  to  a  respectable  canter, 
and  by  that  time  I  had  reached  Holbrook's  cabin.  I 
found  him  suffering  with  a  badly  sprained  ankle, 
some  scalp  wounds,  and  other  minor  bruises,  but  with 
no  serious  injuries.  Convinced  that  he  would  be  out  in 
a  few  days,  I  mounted  my  horse,  feeling  comfortable  in 
the  thought  that  I  would  yet  get  home  in  time  for  a 
good  night's  rest.  The  incident  of  the  rifle  shot  had 


214 


EL  ESTKANJERO 


almost  passed  out  of  my  mind  before  I  again  reached 
the  point  where  it  had  occurred.  There  remained  in 
my  mind  only  a  feeling  of  curiosity  to  know  who  had 
fired  the  shot,  and  the  reason  for  the  action. 

"I  slowed  up  to  a  walk  as  I  passed  the  clump  of 
trees,  and  was  about  to  quicken  my  pace  to  a  gallop 
when  I  thought  I  heard  a  groan.  I  stopped  a  moment 
and  listened  intently,  at  the  same  time  drawing  my 
revolver,  ready  to  defend  myself  if  need  be. 

"That  instant  I  heard  another  groan,  and  this  time  it 
was  unmistakable,  and  sounded  as  though  it  came 
from  a  person  in  distress.  I  located  the  sound  as 
coming  from  the  foot  of  a  dead  pine  tree  standing 
about  one  hundred  feet  from  the  road  opposite  where 
I  had  stopped.  The  shadow  of  the  hill  was  over  the 
ground  about  the  tree,  and  I  could  see  nothing  at  all. 
My  first  thought  was  to  ride  on,  as  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  person  who  fired  the  shot  might  be  trying  to  decoy 
me  from  the  road  for  the  purpose  of  robbery;  or  it 
might  be  Indians. 

"On  second  thought,  however,  I  determined  to  in 
vestigate  this  strange  proceeding,  as  my  feelings  would 
not  allow  me  to  go  home  without  at  least  attempting 
''•'•  to  succor  some  one  who  might  be  in  distress. 

"I  started  on  as  though  going  home,  riding  about 
thirty  or  forty  rods  before  I  drew  rein ;  then  I  tied  my 
horse  behind  a  little  clump  of  bushes,  and  taking  my 
revolver  in  my  right  hand,  crept  carefully  along  in  the 
•j  shadow  toward  the  place  where   I    had    heard    the 
§  groaning,  stopping  every  few  feet  to  listen  for  foot- 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  IN  CAMP 


215 


steps.  I  was  determined  not  to  be  caught  in  any  trap 
or  ambush,  and  was  consequently  exceedingly  alert 
for  anything  that  I  might  see  or,  more  likely,  hear, 
as  it  was  now  quite  dark. 

"I  soon  came  near  enough  again  to  hear  the  groan 
ing,  and  moving  still  more  quietly  and  carefully,  I 
came  within  sight  of  some  one  lying  on  the  ground, 
who  appeared  to  be  badly  hurt  and  wholly  unable  to 
move.  He  had  evidently  heard  me  coming  even  before 
I  could  see  him,  for  he  spoke  to  me  almost  before  I 
made  out  what  he  was,  and  begged  me  to  help  him. 
He  spoke  to  me  as  a  Mestizo  and  the  substance  of  what 
he  said  I  remember  very  well. 

"  'I  don't  know  who  you  are,'  he  said,  in  a  tremulous 
and  weak  voice,  'but  I  have  fallen  from  this  tree,  and 
have  broken  my  leg,  and  I  think  I  have  broken  my  back. 
Oh,  God !  I  have  suffered  terribly  lying  here ;  won't  you 
help  me,  stranger?' 

;  'Who   are   you  ?'    I   asked,    'and   how   came   you 
in  this  plight?' 

"  Tor  heaven's  sake  help  me  out  of  this  first,  and  I 
will  tell  you  everything  afterwards.  I  can't  live  many 
hours  and  I  suffer  so;  help  me,  for  Christ's  sake.' 

"I  told  him  to  lie  still,  and  I  would  try  to  assist  him. 
I  started  back  toward  my  horse  with  the  thought  in 
mind  that  I  might  be  able  to  place  him  on  my  horse 
and  in  this  manner  get  him  to  the  pueblo.  But  upon 
reflection  I  concluded  that  this  would  be  impossible 
with  a  man  so  badly  injured  as  he  seemed  to  be,  and 
before  reaching  my  horse  I  had  determined  to 


216 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


straight  to  the  village  and  get  assistance.  All  of  the 
way  I  was  turning  over  the  events  of  the  evening  and 
trying  to  arrive  at  some  conclusion  about  this  wounded 
man,  wondering  if  it  were  really  he  who  had  fired  the 
shot,  and  how  he  happened  to  be  up  in  the  tree.  In 
this  way  my  mind  was  busy  in  speculations  until  I 
arrived  in  front  of  a  house.  Here  I  found  assistance 
and  made  preparations  to  return  to  the  aid  of  the 
wounded  man. 

"We  procured  a  spring  wagon  that  would  ride  as 
comfortably  as  any  that  could  be  found  in  the  pueblo, 
and  placing  bed  springs  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon 
and  a  mattress  and  some  bed  quilts  on  top  of  them,  I 
got  a  doctor  to  bring  his  surgical  instruments  and  we 
drove  back  hurriedly  for  the  wounded  man. . 

"There  was  no  doubt  that  the  man  was  badly  hurt 
and  suffering  terrible  pain,  but  was  he  a  criminal 
with  criminal  intent  frustrated  by  some  accident,  and 
did  he  have  accomplices  against  whom  we  must  guard 
ourselves  ? 

"These  and  other  questions  we  asked  ourselves  but 
could  not  reply  to  them.  While  I  had  been  somewhat 
nervous  when  alone,  I  had  no  such  feeling  in  the 
company  of  these  tried  and  trusty  men  and  felt  sure 
that  no  robber  or  band  of  robbers  would  attack  three 
well-armed  men,  fully  on  their  guard. 

"We  found  the  Mexican  exactly  where  I  had  left 
him,  with  no  indication  that  he  had  moved  an  inch, 
nor  did  we  get  trace  of  any  other  man  who  might  have 
acted  as  his  accomplice. 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  IN  CAMP         217 


"We  lifted  him  into  the  wagon  as  carefully  as  we 
could,  but  he  suffered  terrible  agony  until  he  fainted. 
This  period  of  fainting  lasted  until  we  had  nearly 
reached  the  pueblo,  and  it  was  a  great  relief  to  us 
when  we  were  not  obliged  to  witness  his  intense 
suffering. 

"After  reaching  home  and  placing  our  patient  in 
bed,  I  was  glad  to  go  to  bed  myself  and  take  a  little 
rest,  as  I  had  passed  through  a  very  strenuous  day  in 
more  ways  than  one,  and  had  not  had  a  wink  of  sleep 
the  night  before. 

"Weeks  afterward,  when  the  Mexican  had  suffi 
ciently  recovered  to  converse  on  the  subject,  I  asked 
him  the  cause  of  his  fall  from  the  tree,  and  was  a  good 
deal  surprised  at  the  story  he  told  me. 

"It  seems  that  the  year  previous  he  was  one  of  a 
band  of  sheep  shearers  that  made  it  a  business  to  go 
from  place  to  place  and  shear  sheep  belonging  to  the 
ranchers  in  that  neighborhood.  This  occupation  had 
been  followed  so  long  that  these  men  had  become  ex 
pert  in  the  work,  and,  as  I  have  stated,  traveled  from 
place  to  place  in  company,  and  were  known  as  'the 
shearing  gang.'  A  strong  friendship  had  sprung  up 
between  the  members  of  this  gang,  and  in  a  moment 
of  enthusiasm,  caused  by  a  plentiful  supply  of  red 
wine  furnished  by  some  friendly  rancher,  they  had 
sworn  to  stand  by  each  other  if  at  any  time  they 
were  in  trouble  with  the  authorities. 

"It  happened  that  at  the  time  these  men  came  to 
Elevado   to   shear   the   sheep,   this   Mexican   and   his. 


218 


EL  ESTBANJEEO 


brother  had  come  with  them,  and  engaged  in  that  work. 
The  brother  got  into  some  trouble  with  a  tipsy  half- 
breed  Indian  and  it  ended  by  his  striking  the  Indian 
with  his  dirk  knife.  He  was  immediately  put  under 
arrest  and  given  a  preliminary  examination.  I  hap 
pened  to  be  the  magistrate  before  whom  the  case  was 
brought,  and  as  the  prosecution  had  made  a  good 
showing,  I  bound  this  man  over  to  the  grand  jury. 

"By  this  time  the  band  of  sheep  shearers  had  gone 
to  some  other  point  for  work,  but  had  left  the  Mexican 
to  assist  his  brother  to  regain  his  freedom. 
Laboring  under  the  crazy  notion  that  my  death  would 
in  some  way  bring  about  the  release  of  his  imprisoned 
brother,  he  conceived  the  idea  of  waylaying  and  dis 
posing  of  me. 

"Learning  in  some  way  that  I  was  to  pay  a  visit 
to  the  prospector,  he  had  gone  to  the  point  that  I  have 
shown  you,  and  climbing  into  that  tree,  fired  at  me, 
and,  as  I  have  already  said,  came  very  near  'getting 
me.'  His  fall  was,  of  course,  accidental,  but  it  made 
a  change  in  the  man's  whole  nature.  All  his  idea  of 
revenge  was  gone,  and  his  feeling  toward  me  was 
changed  from  one  of  resentment  to  one  of  respect, 
and  finally  to  that  of  affection.  I  took  him  into  my 
service  at  home  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  work,  and 
he  has  been  with  me  ever  since." 

"You  don't  mean  Jose,  do  you,  Father?"  asked 
Alice.  "I  have  never  heard  you  mention  it  before,  and 
did  not  dream  while  you  were  relating  the  story  that 
it  was  Jose." 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  IN  CAMP         219 

"Well,  it  is  true  that  Jose  was  the  Mexican,  but  it 
seemed  better  that  the  story  should  not  be  known,  at 
that  time  at  any  rate,  and  we  kept  it  to  ourselves. 
He  has  been  a  faithful  and  affectionate  servant,  and 
we  have  all  learned  to  love  him  very  much." 

"What  became  of  his  brother?"  asked  Philip. 

"He  was  found  guilty  of  assault  and  battery  only, 
although  the  Indian  died,  and  he  served  a  jail  sentence 
of  one  year,"  was  Holcomb's  reply. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


IN  THE  VALLEY 

It  was  a  perfect  morning,  and  our  travelers  lingered 
in  this  beautiful  spot,  loath  to  leave  the  mountains. 
Often  they  stayed  their  steps  to  view  the  inspiring 
panorama  of  hill  and  dale,  mountain  and  valley,  spread 
out  before  them. 

The  hearts  of  Philip  and  Nawona  sang  like  the 
birds.  The  shy  and  happy  glances  of  the  girl  seldom 
sought  those  of  her  lover,  so  new  was  her  revelation 
of  love,  and  so  fearful  was  she  that  she  might  have 
been  overbold,  that  she  kept  at  Alice's  side,  and  per 
versely  directed  her  conversation  toward  any  one 
rather  than  Philip. 

The  young  man,  however,  understood  her  bashful- 
ness,  and  endured  her  caprice,  knowing  in  that  long 
day's  journey  he  would  have  many  occasions  for  a 
w7ord  or  a  pressure  of  the  little  hand. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  the  cavalcade  drew  rein 
before  the  house  built  around  three  sides  of  a  square. 
The  day  had  been  one  of  delight.  The  fragrance  of 
the  chaparral  and  sage  filled  the  air,  now  blowing  cool 
and  sweet  from  the  ocean.  October  was  waning 
to  its  close.  Fleecy  white  clouds  floating  in  the  sky 
gave  promise  of  the  vivifying  rains  that  soon  would 
<  call  forth  the  verdure  from  the  brown  bosom  of  the 


IN  THE  VALLEY 


earth,  when  the  mountains  would  wrap  their  mantles 
of  snow  about  them. 

Francesca  and  Juan  welcomed  them  at  the  door,  and 
Alice  led  Nawona  into  the  house.  Reared  as  she  had 
been  among  savage  surroundings,  this  home  in  the 
valley  was  a  revelation  to  the  girl,  the  wooden  house 
with  its  many  rooms  a  palace,  the  piano  a  magical 
instrument,  the  pictures  upon  the  wall  undreamed  of 
beauty,  the  comfort  and  order  so  strange  to  her-  that 
she  felt  lost  and  bewildered. 

Philip  led  her  from  room  to  room,  showing  her 
this  thing  and  that  and  explaining  their  uses,  while 
Alice  gave  Francesca  directions  in  domestic  matters; 
but  the  girl  was  speechless  and  amazed,  and  at  last,  as 
they  stood  again  in  the  simple  living  room,  she  turned 
toward  Philip  a  grieved  and  puzzled  face. 

"Oh,  Senor,"  she  said,  "I  am  not  fit  to  live  in  such 
a  wonderful  house.  I  am  so  clumsy  and  untaught  and 
out  of  place." 

The  tears  were  in  her  eyes  and  her  lips  were  quiver 
ing.  Philip  put  his  arms  around  her  and  gently  drew 
her  toward  him. 

"Nawona,  my  beloved,"  he  said  softly,  "in  a  week 
you  will  be  as  much  at  home  in  this  house  as  though 
you  had  always  been  accustomed  to  these  things.  Your 
home,  dear  one,  is  here  upon  my  heart,  and  in  a  little 
while  we  two  will  build  a  nest  and  mate,  and  I  will 
sing  like  the  mocking  bird  out  there,  from  the  very 
gladness  of  our  love.  Look  up,  little  maid,  and  take 
courage." 

15 


222  EL  ESTBANJEEO 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  and  their  lips  met  in  a 
long  kiss  of  innocent  love,  and  Alice,  who  came 
through  the  door  at  the  moment,  stopped,  and  for  an 
instant  was  dumb  with  astonishment  at  what  she  saw. 
Then  she  flew  to  Philip  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"I'd  just  like  you  to  explain  yourself,"  she  said, 
giving  him  a  little  shake. 

He  dropped  one  arm  which  was  wrapped  about 
Nawona,  and  took  Alice  too  in  his  embrace. 

"Do  you  really  think,"  he  said,  "that  I  need  to 
make  an  explanation?" 

Nawona  was  standing  with  downcast  eyes,  her  face 
suffused  with  blushes. 

"Oh,  Philip!"  she  whispered. 

"Yes,"  laughed  Alice,  "'Oh,  Philip!'  I  see  just 
how  it  is.  You  little  brown  bird,"  she  said,  throwing 
her  arms  about  Nawona's  neck  and  kissing  her 
heartily.  "I  am  so  glad!  So  glad!  Now,  Mr.  Philip,-^ 
I  shall  take  her  away  and  I  shall  be  a  very  dragon  of 
a  chaperon.  You  shall  not  monopolize  her,  sir,  and 
shall  be  the  most  discreet  of  lovers,  for  Nawona  has 
much  to  learn  before  she  can  be  given  to  you,  and  I 
am  not  going  to  have  her  education  interfered  with 
by  too  much  philandering." 

Alice  laughed  at  the  consternation  with  which  Philip 
heard  this  declaration,  but  she  nevertheless  took  the 
young  girl's  hand  and  led  her  to  her  own  room. 

The  muslin  curtains,  the  white  bed,  the  easy  chairs 
with  their  covers  of  flowered  chintz,  and  the  trifles 


IN  THE  VAL 


scattered  about  that  girls  love,  filled  Nawona  with 
such  amazement  that  when  Alice  pushed  one  of  the 
chairs  forward  she  sat  down,  upon  the  floor  instead. 

"No,  Senorita,  I  am  not  fit,"  she  protested,  with  a 
gesture  toward  her  deer-skin  garments,  now  sadly 
frayed  and  soiled. 

"Nawona,"  said  Alice,  "I  am  no  longer  Senorita 
to  you.  I  am  Alice,  your  dear  sister,"  and  she  knelt 
on  the  floor  beside  her,  and  slipped  an  arm  about  her 
waist.  "I  love  you  very  much,  Nawona,  and  I  am 
so  glad  that  you  care  for  Philip.  He  told  me  about 
his  love  for  you  the  very  first  day  I  came  to  camp,  and 
I  was  afraid  that  he  was  to  suffer,  for  I  thought  you 
had  set  your  heart  upon  another." 

Nawona  smiled  into  her  eyes. 

"And,  oh,  Alice,  how  unhappy  was  I,  for  I  thought 
Philip  loved  you." 

"So  he  does,  as  a  sister,"  Alice  said.  "And  now, 
Nawona,  you  just  rest  here,"  tucking  some  cushions 
behind  the  girl's  shoulders,  "and  in  a  few  minutes  I 
shall  make  you  over,  so  you  will  not  know  yourself." 

Alice  had,  adjoining  her  bedroom,  a  luxury  quite 
unusual  in  those  days  of  the  pueblo,  a  tiny  bathroom, 
with  a  tin  bathtub,  painted  white,  and  plain  but  com 
fortable  fittings.  She  left  the  door  ajar  as  she  turned 
on  the  water,  and  the  marvel  of  Nawona  on  hearing 
the  sound  of  flowing  water  in  the  house  was  so  great 
that  she  tiptoed  to  the  door  to  see  it ;  then  returned  to 
her  cushions,  wondering  at  this  new  piece  of  magic. 

Imagine    your    own    feelings    on    being    suddenly 


224 


EL  ESTEANJEBO 


transported  from  the  life  of  the  wilderness  to  that  of 
civilization — even  the  civilization  of  that  day,  which 
we  now  regard  as  primitive — and  you  may  gain  some 
idea  of  the  feelings  and  emotions  of  the  young  white 
girl  now  restored  to  her  own  proper  surroundings. 

She  looked  at  the  dressing  table,  with  its  array  of 
silver  brushes  and  articles  of  the  toilet,  with  the  curi 
osity  of  a  little  child,  and  as  she  turned  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  herself  in  a  mirror,  that  made  her  look 
about  her  quickly,  thinking  there  was  some  little  brown 
maid  standing  behind  the  dressing  case. 

Then  she  arose  and  softly  went  forward.  The  image 
moved  as  she  moved,  smiled  when  she  smiled,  stretched 
forth  its  hand  as  she  stretched  forth  hers.  It  was 
amusing  to  watch  her,  as  Alice  was  doing  from  a 
crack  of  the  door,  as  she  gestured  and  postured.  She 
had  seen  tiny  mirrors  that  had  been  bartered  with  the 
traders,  but  nothing  like  this,  that  gave  a  view  of  the 
whole  body.  True,  many  a  time  she  had  seen  her 
image  in  pool  and  stream',  but  it  was  not  the  perfect 
living,  breathing  self  like  this. 

Alice  gave  her  plenty  of  time  to  examine  the  dif 
ferent  articles  in  the  room.  At  last  when  she  had 
touched  the  soft  chairs  with  her  hands  to  note  their 
springiness  and  the  unreality  of  the  flowers  upon  their 
covers,  when  she  had  turned  the  brushes  about 
and  gazed  curiously  at  books  and  pictures,  she  sunk 
down  again  upon  the  carpeted  floor,  and  with  a  luxuri 
ous  sigh  of  content,  settled  herself  among  the  cushions. 
Alice  now  came  out,  shining  and  sweet  from  her  bath. 


IN  THE  VALLEY 


225 


A  loose  gown  of  deep  rose  color  trailed  about  her,  and 
her  long  golden  hair  was  unbound.  She  stood  a 
moment  looking  down  upon  the  little  brown  face 
upturned  to  hers. 

"Oh,  Alice!"  cried  Nawona,  clasping  her  hands  in 
delight,  "you  are  most  beautiful  and  splendid.  I  did 
not  think  any  woman  could  ever  look  like  that." 

"Nawona,  come  here,  and  I  will  show  you  some 
thing."  She  led  the  way  into  the  bathroom.  "See, 
now  I  have  turned  on  the  water;  wait,  and  the  tub 
will  soon  be  full." 

When  the  tub  was  filled,  she  said :  "Now,  little 
girl,  off  with  your  clothes.  There  is  soap  and  here  is 
a  brush.  Now  rub  the  soap  thus  upon  the  brush,  and 
scrub  every  inch  of  that  little  person  of  yours.  Then 
when  you  are  through,  and  are  clean  and  fresh,  dry 
yourself  well  with  the  towels,  and  put  this  on,"  holding 
up  a  long  loose  robe  the  color  and  shape  of  the  one 
she  wore,  "and  come  out  to  me  and  I  will  make  you 
beautiful." 

While  Nawona  was  carrying  out  these  directions, 
Alice  arranged  her  hair,  and  dressed  herself  in  a  soft 
gray  woolen  house  gown,  with  a  band  of  lace  at  her  , 
neck  and  wrists.     From  out  her  store  of  dresses,  she 
selected  one  that  she  had  worn  at  school  when  she 
was  a  girl  of  fourteen.     This,  she  thought,  would  fit  -\ 
the  slender  Nawona  to  perfection.     It  was  pale  blue, 
made  with  the  utmost  simplicity,  and  without  the  least 
garnishing.     At  the  neck  and  wrists  Alice  basted  a 
soft  strip  of  lace  like  that  she  herself  wore,  and  after 


- 


226 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


/  v*  //•' 

lM' 


• 


selecting  undergarments  that  she  had  worn  when  the 
dress  fitted  her,  and  that  had  long  lain  done  up  in 
lavender,  she  took  from  the  drawer  of  her  dresser 
a  wide  silk  ribbon  the  color  of  the  dress,  as  a  sash 
for  the  waist,  and  a  narrower  ribbon  of  the  same  hue 
as  a  snood  for  Nawona's  brown  hair,  and  waited  in 
some  impatience  for  the  girl's  appearance. 

As  Nawona  was  astonished  at  Alice's  beauty,  so  the 
wonder  of  the  quaint  and  dainty  loveliness  of  this 
maiden  of  the  wild  grew  upon  Alice  as  she  robed  her 
from  head  to  foot. 

When  she  had  finished  and  Nawona  stood  before 
her,  the  long  curling  brown  hair  had  been  combed  and 
brushed  and  fell  in  soft  waves  almost  to  her  slender 
waist.  Alice  parted  it  in  the  middle,  and  bound  it 
with  a  blue  ribbon.  Over  the  collar  of  fair  white  lace, 
the  beautiful  rose-tinted  brown  face,  with  its  full  red 
lips,  and  the  clear  azure  of  the  long-lashed  eyes,  was 
like  some  old-time  picture. 

"Oh,  Nawona,  you  darling,  step  out  here  into  the 
full  light  and  look  at  yourself,"  she  cried. 

As  Nawona  came  forward,  Alice  gave  a  little  cry 
of  dismay.  Nawona  stopped  in  surprise,  and  glanced 
at  her  inquiringly. 

"Your  feet,"  cried  Alice,  "Oh,  Nawona,  your  feet!" 

Nawona  stuck  one  of  her  white  feet  out  from  under 
the  blue  gown. 

"Yes,  Alice,  my  feet.     They  are  all  right,  see." 

"But  you  must  have  shoes  and  stockings,"  Alice 
cried,  "I  had  quite  forgotten  them." 


IN  THE  VALLEY  227 

She  dived  into  the  trunk  from  which  she  had  taken 
the  other  garments,  and  after  some  delving  into  its 
depths,  brought  out  a  pair  of  little  black  slippers,  with 
shining  steel  buckles,  and  some  blue  silk  stockings. 

"Sit  down  here,  my  child,"  she  laughed,  "and  I  will 
show  you  how  to  wear  civilized  foot  coverings." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  toilet  was  completed,  and  Alice, 
full  of  glee  over  the  surprise  in  store  for  Philip,  said : 

"Now  wait  here,  Nawona,  and  when  you  hear  me 
whistle,  then  come." 

Philip  was  on  the  veranda. 

"Turn  your  back  to  the  door,  sir,  this  minute,"  she 
called  to  him.  Instinctively  he  obeyed. 

"Now  you  stand  there  and  look  straight  ahead." 
Then  she  whistled,  and  as  Nawona  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  she  turned  Philip  about. 

He  stood  staring  and  bewildered  for  a  minute, 
gazing  at  the  lovely  picture,  and  then  taking  Nawona's 
hands  in  his  led  her  to  the  seat  in  the  patio  under  the 
rose  bush,  and  there  Alice  left  them  together  in  the 
dusk. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 


PHILOSOPHY  BY  THE  WAY 

Neither  El  Estranjero  nor  Mr.  Holcomb  appeared 
at  the  supper  table,  and  Alice  found  that  Gardiner  had 
been  waiting  at  the  ranch  for  a  couple  of  days  for 
their  return,  and  that  he  desired  to  make  some  sort  of 
a  journey  upon  which  he  wished  to  consult  them. 

It  was  quite  dark,  when  her  father  and  El  Estranjero 
appeared  upon  the  veranda.  Much  to  her  surprise 
El  Estranjero  still  wore  the  clothes  he  used  for  moun 
tain  travel.  He  had  his  gun  in  his  hand,  and  his  full 
knapsack  upon  his  back. 

Nawona  sat  beside  Alice,  and  in  the  dusk  her 
transformation  did  not  strike  Estranjero  as  it  had 
Philip,  in  fact,  he  hardly  noticed  it.  Alice's  former 
mood  of  gayety  had  passed,  and  now,  sad  and  silent, 
she  was  looking  out  into  the  night.  Philip  was  busied 
unrolling  and  putting  away  the  articles  that  had  been 
in  his  pack  upon  the  journey  just  ended. 

At  the  moment  Estranjero  appeared,  Juan  came 
around  the  corner  of  the  house  leading  the  burro  that 
the  Indians  had  found  upon  the  desert.  Upon  the 
animal's  back  was  a  huge  pack,  and  it  was  followed  by 
a  horse,  similarly  packed,  and  then  Gardiner  came 
//  from  the  shadows,  his  gun  in  his  hand,  and  stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps  as  if  waiting  for  some  one. 

[228] 


PHILOSOPHY  BY  THE  WAY         229 

As  he  approached  Mr.  Holcomb  was  speaking  ear 
nestly  to  El  Estranjero.  "Juan  can  go  with  you,"  he 
was  saying,  "and  if  anything  should  happen  and  you 
need  assistance  of  any  kind  from  the  valley,  he  can 
be  sent  back  with  news."  Alice  rose  to  her  feet.  So 
he  was  going  away  again,  this  time  apparently  on 
another  long  and  dangerous  journey.  What  could  it 
be?  But  El  Estranjero  was  speaking. 

"I  am  sure  we  shall  need  no  help,  but  we  are  glad 
to  have  Juan.  We  certainly  will  return  before  Christ 
mas  at  the  very  longest." 

"Christmas,"  Alice  was  saying  to  herself  in  dismay, 
as  she  pressed  her  hands  over  her  heart.  "He  was 
to  be  gone,  then,  for  two  months.  Would  he  go 
without  a  word!" 

Nawona  was  sorry,  now,  that  she  had  not  told 
El  Estranjero  her  secret,  but  still,  when  he  came 
back  it  would  be  time.  He  bent  and  kissed  her  on 
the  forehead,  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world  to  do. 

"Good-bye,  Nawona,"  he  said,  "I  expect  you  to  be 
quite  an  elegant  young  lady  by  the  time  I  come  back. 
Good-bye,  Alice."  She  laid  her  cold  and  nerveless 
hand  in  his  and  said  farewell  in  a  voice  so  low  he 
hardly  heard  it. 

"Oh,  Alice,  Alice,"  El  Estranjero  said  to  himself. 
"Why  are  you  so  cold  to  me  ?  What  have  I  done  that 
you  should  hate  me?  I  know  you  love  Philip,  but 
why  should  you  treat  me  as  though  I  were  the  dirt 
beneath  your  feet?" 


230  EL  ESTRANJEBO 

"Oh,  Estranjero,"  said  Alice's  heart,  "how  shall  I 
bear  the  agony  of  these  long  days  and  nights,  when 
you  are  gone  to  who  knows  what  danger,  and  maybe 
death?" 

"Come,"  cried  Gardiner,  "I  want  to  be  out  of  the 
valley  before  the  moon  rises.  We  can't  afford  to 
have  any  one  following  us." 

Estranjero  said  a  hasty  word  of  good-bye  to  Philip, 
and  then  the  night  swallowed  him  and  his  companions. 

"Where  are  they  going?"  asked  Philip. 

"My  boy,"  was  Holcomb's  reply,  "this  is  to  be  a 
secret  expedition,  and  I  warn  you  all  to  say  nothing 
about  it.  .  Gardiner  learned  from  a  prospector  that 
he  found  dying  on  the  mountain,  with  whom  he  staid 
till  the  last  and  later  buried,  of  a  rich  gold  mine  in 
the  Indian  country.  He  and  El  Estranjero  are  going, 
with  Juan,  to  locate  the  mine.  Gardiner  has  been  here 
ready  and  waiting  for  two  days.  He  wanted  me  to 
go,  too,  but  I  grub-staked  El  Senor  and  remained  at 
home,  for  I  am  tired  with  this  journey  and  have  many 
things  to  attend  to  here." 

Thus  El  Estranjero,  but  an  hour  returned  from  his 
campaign  in  the  mountains,  was  again  upon  his  way 
into    the    wilderness.      He    had    been    glad    of    this  |j 
opportunity  to  leave  the  pueblo  for  a  time, 
before  his  return  he  could  conquer  this  weakness  __. 
Alice,  that  was  robbing  his  nights  of  rest  and  his  daysv 
of  peace.     By  the  time  he  returned,  perhaps,  she  and 
Philip  would  be  married,  and  knowing  that  she  was 

!;.  lost  to  him  beyond  recall,  and  his  heart-wound  healed 

>(t 


'-  -x.  i 


PHILOSOPHY  BY  THE 


,    .  t 

a  little  by  time  and  separation  from  her,  he  could  look 
life  in  the  face  more  bravely. 

Gardiner  and   Juan   were   in  high   spirits  as   they 
commenced  the  long  tramp  which  had  for  its  object 
a  purpose  so  uncertain  and  dangerous  that  it  partook^ 
of  the  nature  of  an  adventure,  and  was  therefore  none 
the  less  attractive  to  these  hardy  and  brave  souls. 

As  they  journeyed  along  the  road  to  the  mountains 
they  passed  the  battle  ground  where  in  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  weeks  before,  had  taken  place  the  struggle 
between  the  whites  and  the  Indians.  They  camped 
upon  the  first  plateau,  and  the  next  morning,  under  the 
influence  of  a  perfect  day  all  went  on  with  light  hearts. 

As  they  trudged  along  together,  Gardiner,  who  was 
something  of  a  philosopher,  made  conversation  with 
El  Estranjero. 

"I  tell  you  what,  Senor,"  he  said,  "I  was  born  three 
hundred  years  too  late.  If  I  had  been  born  at  the 
right  time,  I  could  have  lived  a  life  in  the  wilderness, 
like  Robin  Hood,  and  have  been  happy." 

Estranjero  smiled.  "I  should  not  care  to  be  a  Robin 
Hood  any  where  else  but  in  Southern  California,  the 
paradise  of  the  world." 

Gardiner  pondered  this  a  moment  and  then  with  an 
assenting  nod  continued. 

"I  shall  never  be  able  to  understand  how  so  many 
people  can  live  in  large  cities  without  room  to  breathe, 
rubbing  elbows  with  arrogant  wealth  on  the  one  side 
and  distressing  poverty  on  the  other,  when  they  can 
breathe  the  pure  atmosphere  of  a  country  like  this, 


232 


EL  ESTKANJEKO 


with   everything  to   charm   the   senses   and   promote 
health  and  vigor." 

"We  may  secure  some  arrogant  wealth  ourselves, 
if  we  have  good  luck,"  said  Estranjero,  thinking  at 
the  same  instant  that  if  Alice  should  turn  a  kindly  ear 
to  him,  if  Alice  only  were  heart-free,  what  wealth, 
such  as  they  thought  to  secure,  might  mean  to  him. 

"I  do  not  often  talk  much  about  an  out-door  life," 
Estranjero  continued,  "for  the  reason  that  I  am  con 
scious  of  no  other  and  know  little  of  the  life  of  a 
•  crowded  city.  Anything  else  but  the  freedom  of  these 
grand  old  mountains  and  this  wide  spreading  desert 
would  be  a  prison  to  me,  yet  civilization  surely  has 
its  advantage." 

"Advantages,"  said  Gardiner  with  scorn.  "I 
would  not  change  my  own  way  of  living  if  I  could 
gain  all  the  advantages  and  comforts  of  a  life  of 
luxury  in  the  city.  It  seems  to  me  that  those  living 
./  there  pay  too  much  for  what  they  get.  If  we  were  to 
•I  go  right  on  living  forever,  and  could  use  the  advan 
tages  gained  by  strife  and  hurry,  then  I  could  under 
stand  the  benefits  of  such  a  life.  But  existence  here 
is  too  short  for  such  a  struggle  and  we  cannot  carry 
the  hard-won  advantages  away  with  us.  Now  look 
at  Juan  there.  Like  all  the  Indians  of  his  kind,  he 
lives  in  a  thriftless  sort  of  way  with  no  concern  for 
the  morrow,  but  enjoying  every  moment  of  the  present 
and  is  not  torn,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  with  the 
greed  and  passion  of  high  life." 

"Juan,"  called  Estranjero  to  the  Indian  who  was 


V\\\ 


PHILOSOPHY  BY  THE  WAY 


233 


plodding  beside  the  burro.  "Juan,  what  do  you  want 
most  in  the  world?"  Juan  looked  at  the  speaker  in 
some  perplexity,  as  he  meditatively  scratched  his  head. 

"A  cigarette,  Senor,"  he  answered. 

"Nothing  else?" 

"Nothing,  Senor,  I  am  not  hungry." 

"Ah,"  said  the  philosopher,  as  they  resumed  their 
march.  "You  see  I  am  right.  The  Indian's  heed- 
lessness  often  makes  him  go  hungry,  but  hunger  gives 
him  an  appetite  for  what  he  does  get.  But  they  are 
like  the  leaves  falling  from  the  trees  before  the  frosts 
of  winter.  The  onward  rush  of  the  white  man  is 
sweeping  them  to  the  happy  hunting  ground  and  in 
a  few  years  they  will  be  gone  and  the  places  that 
know  them  now  will  know  them  no  more  forever." 

"I  suppose  they  will  enjoy  their  endless  sleep,  too," 
smiled  El  Estranjero,  "for  next  to  smoking  and 
eating,  Juan  loves  sleeping  most,  that's  true,  isn't  it, 
amigo?" 

"Yes,  Senor,"  replied  the  Indian  with  a  grin. 

The  philosopher  was  not  to  be  diverted. 

"I  believe,"  he  proceeded,   "that  there  is  a  happy 
medium  which  the  Indian  might  attain,  and  he  would 
then  enjoy  the  benefits  of  both  savage  and  civilized 
life.     I  am  sure  the  frontiersman,  like  myself,  gets 
more  out  of  life  than  does  either  the  Indian  or  the 
city-bred  man.     Certainly  the  city  man  would  enjoy  :lljfj' 
much  better  health,  and  a  chance  of  much  longer  life,  ^ 
if  his  lines  were  cast  in  nature's  home."  jij 

Like   Holcomb,    Gardiner   was  a   college  ofraHuate.M 


234 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


and  the  purity  of  his  English  did  not  distinguish  him 
above  many  of  the  men  of  the  mountains  and  isolated 
pueblos.  While  this  part  of  the  Southwest  at 
tracted  its  quota  of  the  rougher  element  whose  lan 
guage  is  the  vernacular  of  the  popular  western  story, 
it  had  its  large  sprinkling  of  men  of  the  schools,  who 
found  in  the  beauty  of  the  country  and  the  perfection 
of  the  climate  attractions  stronger  than  those  of 
academic  pursuits. 

El  Estranjero,  though  with  no  knowledge  of  his 
past,  had  brought  into  his  new  life,  strangely  enough, 
a  full  recollection  of  the  books  he  had  read,  and  his 
speech  showed  that  he,  too,  had  known  the  refining 
influence  of  a  thorough  education.  Judging  from  their 
uncouth  dress  and  rugged  appearance,  a  chance  passer 
by  might  have  thought  these  men  under-bred  or  igno 
rant,  but  a  single  sentence  spoken  by  either  showed 
their  native  courtesy  and  the  training  they  had 
received.  They  were  congenial  companions,  therefore, 
and  Estranjero  looked  forward  with  pleasure  to  spend 
ing  these  months  in  the  wilderness  with  the  talkative 
man  whose  quaint  philosophy  always  interested  him. 

As  they  made  their  way  upward  Gardiner's  flow  of 
talk  whiled  away  the  hours.  When  they  halted  to 
rest  and  partake  of  food,  eaten  with  a  relish  known 
only  by  those  who  have  earned  the  right  to  enjoy 
ment  by  exercise  in  the  open  air,  Gardiner  still  talked, 
Sand  when,  lounging  at  night  beside  their  fire  in  the  pine 
forest,  where  the  needles  made  a  bed  as  soft  and 
springy  as  a  bed  of  down,  while  they  watched  the 


'Some  clear  stream  where  the  trout  were  abin 


—Page  235 


PHILOSOPHY  BY  THE  WAY 


235 


smoke  curling  from  their  pipes  and  listened  to  the 
soughing  wind  as  it  swayed  and  caressed  the  fragrant 
pines  that  raised  their  lofty  heads  into  the  dark 
blue  of  the  night  sky,  Gardiner's  voice  babbled  on  like 
the  mountain  brook.  Estranjero  listened  dreamily, 
sometimes  losing  it  altogether  as  his  thoughts  turned 
back  to  the  home  he  had  left  and  the  woman  he  loved, 
and  sometimes  putting  in  a  word  to  start  again  the 
current  of  his  companion's  thoughts,  for  he  liked  to 
hear  him,  and  Gardiner  liked  equally  to  be  heard. 

The  three  men  pushed  rapidly  across  the  mountains, 
occasionally  stopping  to  fish  in  some  clear  stream 
where  the  trout  were  abundant,  or  to  hunt  deer  and 
to  make  jerky  for  future  use.  They  traversed  the 
mountains  and  struck  across  the  desert,  unerringly 
piloted  by  Juan,  and  after  days  and  weeks  of  traveling 
found  themselves  in  the  Pah-Ute  country,  where 
Gardiner  expected  to  locate  the  ledge  described  by  the 
prospector. 

As  they  were  to  spend  some  months  in  the  wilderness 
here,  they  pitched  their  camp  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky 
cliff  that  in  some  prehistoric  time  had  been  utilized  as 
the  habitation  of  a  tribe  of  cliff-dwellers,  and  settled 
themselves  to  begin  their  search. 

They  built  a  wickiup  of  leaves  and  branches,  in  the 
Indian  fashion,  and  made  themselves  comfortable. 
The  Pah-Utes,  who  now  knew  of  the  extinction  of  the 
flower  of  their  tribe,  had  retired  into  the  depths  of 
their  forest  fastness,  and  there  was  no  apprehension 
from  them.  Indeed,  the  Pah-Utes  were  in  deadly  - 


(V 

BU  ESTKANJEEO 


fear  of  their  old  enemy,  the  Apaches,  and  secreted 
themselves  like  the  other  wild  things  of  the  wood, 
hoping  to  escape  from  their  fierce  foes. 

As  cold  weather  came  on,  the  wickiup  was  found  to 
be  insufficient  shelter  against  the  inclemency  of  the 
approaching  season,  and  they  determined  to  seek  bet 
ter  quarters  or  improve  these  they  had  already  con 
structed.  Their  brush  house  backed  against  the 
loosely  laid  wall  of  rock  which  had  been  the  front  of 
the  long-ruined  cliff  dwelling.  By  rebuilding  this  wall 
and  clearing  the  rubbish  away  behind  it,  they  managed 
to  reconstruct  a  very  respectable  abode,  which  they 
flattered  themselves  did  no  great  discredit  to  their 
cliff-dwelling  predecessors. 

In  the  rubbish  which  was  piled  deep  upon  the  floor 
of  this  rocky  apartment,  they  found  a  number  of  uten 
sils  that  must  have  been  the  property  of  the  former 
dwellers  of  the  ancient  flat.  The  most  of  these  were 
evidently  cooking  pots  and  vessels  for  the  storage  of 
provisions  and  water.  There  were  also  among  them, 
deep  down  in  the  debris,  several  images  that  might 
have  been  objects  of  worship. 

By  using  the  stone  in  the  old  wall,  and  blue  clay  for 
mortar  to  relay  it,  their  dwelling  was  made  tight  and 
weather-proof,  the  doorway  being  the  only  entrance 
for  light  and  air.  In  one  corner  of  the  chamber  was 
a  recess  which  had  evidently  been  used  for  a  fireplace 
and  for  cooking,  as  the  wall  was  still  thick  with  soot. 
A  crevice  in  the  upper  wall  had  served  as  a  vent  for 
the  smoke.  Taken  altogether,  there  was  very  little 


The   Utes  and  Apaches  were  restless." — Page   247 


PHILOSOPHY  BY  THE  WAY         237 

lacking  to  make  this  dwelling  much  more  comfortable 
than  many  tenement  houses  in  some  of  the  larger 
eastern  cities. 

They  were  all  sufficiently  well  acquainted  with  the 
excessive  cold  of  the  winter  here,  to  make  abundant 
preparation  for  the  freezing  weather.  For  days  they 
gathered  fuel  and  heaped  it  high  in  their  abode.  They 
hunted  deer  and  bear  meat  and  fished  in  the  streams, 
dried  their  game  and  packed  it  in  the  vessels  found  in 
the  house,  made  snowshoes,  so  they  might  be  prepared 
for  a  sudden  storm,  and  then  set  out  in  earnest  to 
prospect  for  the  mine. 

It  was  drawing  on  toward  the  close  of  a  cold,  bright 
day,  about  a  week  after  the  completion  of  the  house,  % 
that  Estranjero  and  Gardiner,  with  a  fine  fat  buck 
they  had  killed  lying  at  their  feet,  were  smoking  their 
pipes  by  the  door  of  their  house.     Juan  had  taken  his 
fishing  rod  and  was  fishing  in  the  stream,  hidden  by  a 
dense  clump  of  willows,  when  suddenly  he  heard  the 
terrible  war  cry  of  the  Apaches,  and  crouching  in  the 
shelter  of  his  covert,  from  which  he  could  view  the 
camp,    saw  to  his  horror,    Estranjero   and   Gardiner  15 
struggling  in  the  grasp  of  a  half  score  of  Indians,  who 
soon  bound  their  arms  behind  them,  and,  after  looting  * 
the  house  of  all  it  contained,  and  searching  about  care-  -\ 
fully,  had  evidently  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  - 
two  prospectors  were  alone. 

Juan  had  long  ago  built  a  barrier  across  a  green 
canyon  about  three  miles  from  the    hut,    making    a 

pasture  for  the  burro  and  horse  in  a  secluded  little  valley 

- 


238 


EL  ESTBANJEEO 


where  the  grass  was  fresh  and  green.  Luckily  the 
Indian  had  his  rifle  and  ammunition  pouch  with  him, 
and  surmising  that  the  Apaches  had  not  noted  the 
pack  saddles,  which  had  been  thrown  into  a  thick 
clump  of  brush  behind  the  hovel,  Juan  waited  till  the 
band  was  well  on  its  way ;  then,  with  the  stealth  and 
cunning  which  made  him  the  cleverest  trailer  in  the 
whole  valley,  he  set  out  in  pursuit. 

Day  after  day  he  followed  the  Apaches,  noting 
where  they  camped  at  night,  and  at  last  got  near 
enough  to  see  that  the  prisoners  were  not  ill  treated 
and  to  hear  a  council  talk  from  which  he  learned  they 
were  to  be  taken  to  an  Apache  village  on  the  banks  of 
the  Colorado  and  there  held  until  the  return  from,  the 
fall  hunt  of  the  great  chief,  Bull-face,  when  their  fate 
should  be  determined. 

Juan  now  turned  back,  made  all  haste  to  the  ruined 
[hut,  and  seeking  his  horse  in  the  canyon  pasture,  was 
soon   pushing   his   way   by   night   and   day   towards 
Elevado. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

NAWONA  AND  FRANCESCA 

Alice  and  Nawona  spent  long  hours  together  as  the 
autumn  waned  toward  winter.  Philip  had  bought  his 
ranch  and  was  busy  building  a  home  for  himself  and 
his  bride-to-be.  The  trousseau  must  be  fashioned,  and 
this  in  itself  was  a  matter  of  absorbing  interest,  and 
then  there  were  lessons  in  English  for  Nawona  and  the 
thousand  other  things  in  which  she  was  to  be 
instructed.  Alice  was  so  painstaking,  and  Nawona 
so  quick  of  apprehension,  that  in  a  few  weeks  all 
traces  of  her  wild  life  disappeared. 

Her  love  for  Philip  was  a  powerful  stimulus  to 
improvement    and    her    innate    refinement    naturally 
caused  her  to  adopt  the  ways  of  civilization.    No  elder 
sister  could  have  been  more  tenderly  loved  than  she 
and  Philip  loved  Alice,  and  the  keen  delight  that  Alice  ' 
took  in  receiving  their  confidence  and  advising  them  | 
was  marred  only  by  the   constant  pain   of   her   own 
unhappy  love  for  El  Estranjero. 

In  those  weeks  a  new  womanliness  was  born  in 
Alice.  Her  solicitude  for  her  father's  comfort  became 
more  tender,  and  the  expression  upon  her  beautiful 
face,  though  it  dimmed  somewhat  the  brightness  of 
her  beauty,  added  to  it  an  undefinable  charm. 

One  day  her  father  brought  her  a  letter  the  contents 
of  which  caused  her  the  greatest  joy. 


240  EL  ESTRANJEBO 

"Nawona,"  she  called,  "come  and  be  happy  with 
me.  My  dearest  and  kindest  friend,  Mrs.  Anderson, 
who  did  so  much  for  me  when  I  was  in  Washington 
last  year,  is  in  Los  Angeles,  and  best  of  all,  her  hus 
band,  Colonel  Anderson,  is  stationed  there.  I  shall 
soon  see  her,  for  she  writes  to  ask  me  if  it  will  be  con 
venient  for  her  to  make  me  a  visit.  Shall  we  not  have 
her  at  once?  Would  it  not  be  fine  if  she  could  be  here 

Christmas?" 

Nawona  blushed  as  she  said,  "Yes,  Alice  dear,  i 
would  indeed  be  fine.     But  tell  me  about  her." 

Christmas  was  the  time  the  young  lovers  had  chosen 
for  their  bridal,  for  in  those  days  long  engagements 
were  not  customary,  and  though  Nawona  was  young 
she  had  no  kindred  to  object  to  the  ardor  of  her  lover, 
and  she  looked  forward  with  the  greatest  joy  to  the 
time  when  she  and  Philip  would  inhabit  the  nest  he 

was  building. 

Alice  rejoiced  to  have  Mrs.  Anderson's  assistance 
and  her  sensible  advice  in  the  preparations  for  the 
household  comfort  of  the  young  couple  in  their  new 
home.  She  drew  Nawona  down  beside  her  and  sau 

-Nawona,  she  is  a  white-haired,  lovely  lady,  this 
friend  of  mine.  She  knew  my  mother  when  she  was  a 
little  girl,  and  her  husband  has  long  been  in  the  army. 
All  of  her  relatives  are  army  people.  She  has  a 
brother  who  is  a  general,  and  one  son  in  the  army  and 
another  in  the  navy,  and  I  don't  know  how  many 
-randsons  in  West  Point  and  Annapolis.  She  is  just 


NAWONA  AND  FEANCESCA         241 

the  sort  of  a  young-old  lady  that  I  want  to  be  when  I 
am  spinster  aunt  to  Philip's  children." 

Nawona  laughed.  "Alice,  you  will  never  be  a 
spinster  aunt  to  anybody's  children.  You  are  such  a 
lovely  lady,  that  if  I  were  a  man  I  would  steal  you 
and  run  away  with  you  if  I  could  not  get  you  other 


wise." 

"Well,"  said  Alice,  "I  will  write  Mrs.  Anderson 
to  come  just  as  quickly  as  she  can  get  here  and  stay 
as  long  as  she  possibly  can,  but  at  all  events  until  after 
Christmas.  We  will  go  to  Francesca  now  and  plan 
the  immediate  fitting  up  of  a  room  for  her." 

Francesca's  attitude  toward  Nawona  was  a  strange 
one.  She  would  prepare  especial  dainties  for  her, 
take  the  greatest  pains  in  every  way  to  please  her,  and 
would  scan  her  face  with  an  almost  painful  anxiety,  as 
if  she  were  trying  to  read  something  there,  or  to  solve 
some  puzzle  in  her  own  mind. 

To-day  Alice  left  Nawona  and  Francesca  in  charge 
of  the  furnishing  of  the  room  for  Mrs.  Anderson, 
while  she  wrote  her  letter  to  her  friend.  Scarcely  had 
they  been  left  alone,  before  Francesca  turned  to 
Nawona  and  said  in  the  Indian  tongue : 

"Sefiorita,  your  face  to  me  is  as  one  seen  in  a 
dream.  I  try  to  remember,  but  my  head  is  dull  and 
I  cannot  think.  Where  is  it,  Sefiorita,  think  you,  that 
I  have  seen  you?" 

Nawona  smiled  kindly.  "It  must  be  a  mistake,  '- 
Francesca,"  she  said,  answering  the  old  woman  in  her,'J 
own  language.  "It  could  never  have  been  that  you  '^| 

-  '-iS3f:^g*l  v  '    ' .:  •'fr^J^&£%&&a&&f^t^,<   " 


242 


EL  ESTRANJEKO 


saw  me  before  I  came  to  this  house,  for  I  was  never 
before  here,  and  you  were  never  with  my  people." 

"But  when  you  were  a  little  girl,  were  you  never 
here  with  your  mother?" 

It  had  not  been  thought  best  to  tell  Francesca  and 
the  people  of  the  pueblo  much  concerning  Nawona. 
The  capture  of  white  people  by  the  Indians  was  not  at 
all  uncommon  in  those  days;  therefore  the  rescue  of 
the  girl,  while  it  excited  much  interest,  soon  ceased  to 
be  a  subject  of  conversation  in  the  pueblo,  and  as 
Philip  and  Nawona  were  to  make  their  home  there, 
they  considered  it  best  that  only  such  of  her  history 
as  was  already  known  through  her  rescue  and  return 
to  the  settlement,  should  be  made  public  property. 

"My  mother  was  never  here,"  answered  Nawona. 

"And  is  the  Senorita's  mother  still  living?"  asked 
the  Indian  woman. 

Nawona  knew  from  the  manner  of  the  question  that 
there  was  none  of  the  idle  curiosity  here  that  was  so 
repugnant  to  her.  The  anxious  and  earnest  gaze  of 
the  old  woman,  her  almost  trembling  eagerness  to 
learn  something  about  her,  strangely  impressed  the 
young  girl. 

"No,  Francesca,  she  died  when  I  was  a  very  little 
girl." 

"Ah,  she  is  dead,"  breathed  Francesca.  "How  did 
she  die,  Senorita?" 

"Among  the  Indians,  Francesca.  She  was  mad 
from  the  hour  I  remember  her." 

"Yes,"  said  Francesca,  "in  the  storm  and  rain  you 

' 


NAWONA  AND  FKANCESCA 


243 


awoke,  and  she  was  shrieking  as  an  Indian  would 
have  scalped  some  man  that  she  saw  shot  in  the  head 
and  dead  at  her  feet."  Nawona  stared  at  her  with 
amazement. 

"Oh,  I  know,  I  know/'  almost  screamed  Francesca. 
Nawona  shrank  from  her  in  terror. 

"You  could  not  have  known/'  she  said. 

"Listen,"  said  the  old  woman,  grasping  her  arm 
and  speaking  low  and  rapidly,  with  her  face  almost 
against  that  of  the  girl. 

"It  was  night,  the  rain  fell  and  the  thunder,  ah,  the 
thunder  was  like  the  roaring  of  beasts,  and  the  light 
ning  blazed,  and  fear  and  death  were  abroad  upon  the 
mountain.  There  were  wagons,  many  wagons,  and 
the  camp  fire  was  quenched  by  the  rain,  and  it  was 
very  dark.  But  all  the  sky  was  light  for  an  instant  \ 
with  the  lightning,  and  then  there  stole  from  behind 
the  trees  and  rocks,  Indians — Apaches  and  Utes." 

The  girl's  eyes  widened  in  horror,  and  she  drew 
back  from  the  strange  old  woman  who  was  telling  her 
this  tale. 

"Yes,  there  are  Indians,  Pah-Utes  and  Apaches, 
and  they  give  their  war  cry,  and  men  come  from  the 
wagons.  They  are  stupid  with  sleep,  and  in  the  dark-  ^ 
ness  cannot  find  their  guns,  and  the  Indians  strike 
them  down,  men,  women  and  children.  Oh,  Mother 
of  God !  they  kill  the  little  children !  They  dash  their 
bodies  against  the  rocks,  and  see,  there  is  one,  an 
Apache,  who  swings  a  babe  by  the  heels,  and  its  head 
is  crushed  against  a  tree  before  it  can  wail. 


244 


EL  E8TRANJERO 


"But  there  against  the  rock  is  a  woman.  Her  long 
brown  hair  is  unbound.  A  child,  hidden  behind  her,  is 
sobbing  in  terror.  And  there  is  a  man  who  has  a 
hatchet  in  his  hand.  He  strikes  again  and  again  as  he 
stands  before  her  and  the  little  child  to  keep  them 
from  their  enemies.  He  cuts  one  Indian  through  the 
head,  and  another,  and  another.  Then  he  falls,  and  a 
tall  Pah-Ute  comes  up  and  would  scalp  the  dead  white 
man,  but  another  white  man  in  gray  is  there.  He  is 
with  the  Indians  and  seems  to  command  them.  The 
woman  raises  her  hands  to  him  and  speaks.  He  for 
bids  the  chief,  for  he  is  a  chief,  to  take  the  scalp. 
It  is  all  quiet  now,  and  the  Indians  are  dragging 
things  from  the  wagons.  They  make  a  fire,  they 
dance  about  it ;  but  the  Pah-Ute  takes  the  little  child 
upon  his  shoulder,  he  leads  the  woman  away  in  the 
darkness.  What  then,  Nawona,  what  then  ?  I  see  no 
more." 

Nawona  knew  that  in  some  mysterious  way  the 
woman  was  reading  the  tale  of  her  own  capture  by  the 
Indians,  but  there  were  in  the  recital  things  she  had  not 
remembered  and  did  not  know.  How  did  the  woman 
know  them,  or  how,  indeed,  did  she  know  this  story? 
"Francesca,"  she  cried  in  horror,  "you  were  one  of 
that  murdering  band,  you  were  with  them,  how  else 
could  you  know  these  things?" 

"Nawona,  I  saw  them  in  a  picture  of  the  Great 
Spirit.  It  was  in  the  evening  that  I  saw  all  this,  long 
after  it  was  past,  and  in  this  very  room.  Sefiorita 
Alice  was  a  little  girl  then,  but  she  still  remembers 


NAWONA  AND  FRA 


the  time  and  how  I  shrieked  and  was  afraid  at  what  I 
saw.  But  now  I  know  you  were  the  little  child, 
Senorita  Nawona.  Oh,  the  Virgin  be  thanked,  you 
were  the  little  child  and  are  safe,  and  the  Great  Spirit 
has  led  you  here.  Now  may  my  little  white  dove,  my 
own  dear  Senorita,  be  happy!" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  questioned  Nawona. 

But  the  old  woman  suddenly  turned  and  went  about 
her  task,  muttering  to  herself  unintelligibly,  and 
Nawona  determined  later  to  ask  Alice  the  meaning 
of  this  mystery.  In  her  heart  Nawona  still  believed 
that  Francesca  had  been  with  the  band  of  murderers 
that  had  attacked  the  wagons  when  she  and  her  mother 
were  captured  by  the  savages ;  but  the  old  woman  was 
a  valued  servant  in  the  Holcomb  house,  and  she  felt 
that  her  own  position  as  a  guest  and  the  recipient  of  so 
many  benefits,  bound  her  to  be  silent  as  to  this  inci 
dent  in  the  career  of  the  Indian  woman,  whom  they  all 
regarded  with  so  much  affection.  That  she  saw  the 
scene  in  a  picture  of  the  Great  Spirit  was  of  course  a 
falsehood.  That  was  said  to  mislead  her,  she  felt 
certain,  but  she  had  no  proof  against  the  woman.  She 
herself,  was  really  almost  a  stranger  to  the  Holcombs. 
If  Francesca  chose  to  deny  the  conversation,  to  which 
there  had  been  no  listeners,  it  would  place  Nawona 
herself  in  the  position  of  falsifying  and  with  apparent 
malice. 

The  girl  considered  all  these  things,  and  resolved 
to  say  nothing  for  the  present,  but  from  that  day  she 
avoided  the  old  woman.  She  would  take  nothing 


246 


EL  ESTEANJEBO 


from  her  hand  if  she  could  help  it,  and  never  spoke  to 
her  except  when  necessity  compelled  it,  and  Alice, 
who  noticed  her  manner,  attributed  it,  not  unnaturally, 
to  dislike  of  Francesca  because  she  was  an  Indian,  and 
the  fact  that  Nawona  now  wished  to  forget  her  wild 
life  and  all  connected  with  it. 


The  hearts  of  the  young  ladies  were  susceptible  to  uniforms." — Page  247 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


THE    LOCKET 

Mrs.  Anderson  had  arrived  at  the  house  with  the 
patio,  and  a  company  of  cavalry  had  come  as  an  escort 
of  honor.  With  them  moreover  was  her  husband. 
The  escort  was  incidental,  as  it  was  the  intention  of 
Colonel  Anderson  to  go  into  camp  with  the  company 
in  the  Pah-Ute  country.  Rumors  had  come  from  the 
frontier  that  both  the  tribes  of  Utes  and  Apaches  were 
restless,  and  that  the  Apaches,  not  content  with  mak 
ing  war  upon  their  red  neighbors,  were  at  their  old 
tricks  of  stealing  cattle,  burning  isolated  ranch  houses, 
and  murdering  settlers. 

Now  the  company  was  encamped  in  the  meadow 
a  half  a  mile  below  the  gate  in  the  cypress  hedge,  and 
would  remain  there  for  at  least  a  week. 

There  were  handsome  young  officers  in  the  company, 
and  the  hearts  of  the  young  ladies  of  the  pueblo  were 
as  susceptible  to  uniforms  as  are  those  of  their  sisters 
at  this  day.  There  were  dinners,  dances,  and  a  bar 
becue  planned  for  the  entertainment  of  the  military 
visitors;  and  the  Holcomb  house,  as  the  headquarters  / 
of  the  Colonel,  became  the  center  of  the  gayeties. 

Nawona  and  Alice,  chaperoned  by  Mrs.  Anderson, 
were,  of  course,  the  belles  of  the  functions  that  were 
given  by  Alice  at  her  father's  house.  Alice  was  glad 

[247] 


ESTRANJERO 


-— 
this    opportunity    to    introduce    Nawona    to    the 

neighbors,  and,  dressed  in  the  pretty  clothes  that  had 
been  fashioned  for  her,  the  girl,  with  her  innocent 
i$^  beauty  and  refined  manner,  won  instant  approval.    She 
r/li^ll  /  was  as  self-possessed  as  though  she  had  always  been 
\  among  such  scenes,  and  few  would  have  thought  from 
her  speech,  look  or  manner  that  only  a  few  weeks  be 
fore  she  had  roamed  the  desert  with  a  band  of  savages, 
a  captive  since  childhood. 

It  was  the  evening  of  Thanksgiving  Day,  and  the 
occasion  was  to  be  celebrated  at  the  Holcomb  house 
with  a  dinner  for  the  officers  of  the  company.  This 
dinner  was  to  consist  not  only  of  turkey  and  other 
traditional  Thanksgiving  dishes,  but  the  triumphs  of 
Spanish  cooking  were  also  being  prepared  by  Francesca 
and  Vera. 

After  the  dinner  there  was  to  be  dancing  in  the 
patio,  which  had  been  floored  and  hung  with  lanterns 
and  decorated  with  pepper  boughs  and  pine  branches. 
This  was  to  be  the  last  of  the  round  of  festivities  in 
honor  of  the  visitors,  for  on  the  morrow  the  camp 
would  be  broken  and  the  cavalry  would  ride  away, 
Mrs.  Anderson  remaining  with  Alice  as  her  guest. 

To-night  Alice  wore  a  white  gown,  her  golden  hair 
was  wound  with  pearls,  and  her  arms  and  neck  were 
bare.  After  she  was  ready  to  go  out  to  meet  tlie 
guests,  whose  arrival  might  now  be  expected  soon, 
Mrs.  Anderson,  stately  in  the  black  velvet  and 
diamonds  which  she  had  last  worn  at  a  Presidential 
reception,  tapped  at  Alice's  door. 


THE  LOCKET 


249 


"My  dear,"  she  said  to  Alice,  "I  want  you  to  look 
me  over  and  see  if  I  will  do." 

"Do,"  cried  Alice,  "you  look  like  some  grand 
court  dame." 

"My  husband  likes  this  dress,"  replied  her  friend, 
"and  to-morrow  he  will  be  gone,  so  I  want  to  look 
the  best  I  can  for  the  sake  of  my  lover." 

"Here  is  another,"  Alice  cried  with  a  laugh,  as 
Nawona  timidly  knocked  at  the  door.  "Come  in, 
Wona,  darling." 

The  girl  entered,  and  Alice  sprang  up  and  embraced 
her.  "You  look  just  like  a  rose,  Nawona,  and  Philip 
certainly  is  right  when  he  calls  you  his  'Rose  of  the 
desert.'  " 

Nawona's  gown  was  a  soft  and  shimmering  pink 

silk,  made  to  show  her*  rounded  arms  and  plump  neck. 

Her  curls  were  gathered  high  upon  her  head   and 

bound  with  a  fillet  of  ribbon  the  same  color  as  her 

dress.  About  her  neck  was  a  slender  gold  chain,  a  gift 

from  her  lover,  and  depending  from  this  chain  was  the 

disk  of  gold  taken  from  the  breast  of  the  dead  Ute 

chief,  its  diamonds  sparkling  like  raindrops  in  the  sun. 

Mrs.    Anderson   looked   her   over    with    approval. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  "Alice  was  right,"     Then  her 

eyes  fell  upon  the  ornament  upon  the  girl's  white  neck. 

She  gasped  a  little,  turned  pale,  and  started  forward. 

"Where  did  you  get  that,  Nawona?"    she    asked, 

pointing  to  the  trinket. 

Nawona  told  her  the  story  of  the  golden  disk,  how 
she  had  seen  the  Ute  chief  take  it  from  her  dead 


250 


EL  EST'BANJEBO 


mother's  bosom,  how  he  had  always  thereafter  worn 
it,  and  how  Philip  called  it  her  dowry,  and  told  her  to 
take  good  care  of  it,  for  it  might  some  day  lead  to  the 
discovery  of  her  kindred. 

While  she  related  this,  Mrs.  Anderson  gazed  at  her 
with  a  new  look  upon  her  face.  She  had  been  told  the 
girl's  story  and  her  heart  had  gone  out  to  her  from 
the  first.  When  Nawona  had  finished  giving  her  the 
history  of  the  disk  the  lady  said  : 

"Nawona,  will  you  take  it  from  your  neck  for  a 
moment;  I  want  to  look  at  it  closely." 

The  young  girl  unclasped  the  chain  and  handed  the 
ornament  to  Mrs.  Anderson.  That  lady  looked  it 
over,  the  tears  standing  in  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  it  is  the  same,"  she  said  brokenly,  "there  can 
be  no  doubt.  See,  Alice,  these  diamonds  form  an  old 
English  G.  Do  you  notice  this  center  one?  See,  I 
will  press  it."  She  did  so,  and  out  from  the  side  there 
was  pushed  the  end  of  a  little  lever,  made  of  the  curv 
ing  side  of  the  disk,  and  so  cunningly  joined  to  it  that 
££unless  she  had  known  of  its  existence  she  could  not 
have  discovered  it.  "See  again,"  she  said,  "I  now  raise 
this  so,  and  press  upon  it."  As  she  pressed,  the  little 
disk  separated  and  opened,  revealing  that  it  was  a 
cunningly  contrived  locket.  In  the  locket  were  two 
miniatures,  one  of  a  woman  whose  face  was  so  like 
Nawona's  that  Alice  was  not  surprised  when  the  girl, 
with  tears  running  down  her  face,  cried,  "Oh,  that  is 
my  mother,  my  own  mother,  and  to  think  that  all  the 
years  her  face  has  been  there  and  I  have  never  seen  it ! 


THE  LOCKET 


251 


I  have  dreamed  of  it  many  times,  but  in  my  dreams 
her  face  was  always  sad,  and  her  hair  hung  about  her 
neck  and  she  was  weeping  or  moaning.  But  look, 
Alice,  here  is  my  mother  as  young  as  I  am,  and  sweet, 
oh,  so  sweet !" 

Alice  took  the  locket  and  reverently  gazed  upon  it. 
But  who  was  that  with  curling  brown  hair,  whose 
gray  eyes  looked  out  from  the  other  side.  This  face 
was  surely  a  familiar  one.  She  pointed  to  it  with  an 
unspoken  question  upon  her  lips. 

Mrs.  Anderson,  pale  and  trembling,  again  took  the 
locket  from  Nawona  and  led  her  to  a  seat. 

"My  dear  child,"  she  said,  "sit  down,  and  then  look 
at  the  picture  of  this  man,  and  tell  me  if  you  can 
remember  anything  about  him." 

Nawona  gazed  long  at  the  face.  "Why,  yes,"  she 
cried  at  last,  "I  used  to  call  that  man  'Pa-pa.'  He 
once  brought  me  a  big  doll  with  yellow  hair.  That  is 
all  I  can  remember,  but  I  know  it  is  the  same  man." 

"Nawona,  that  man  was  your  father.  I  knew  him 
well  from  the  time  he  was  a  little  fellow  in  kilts,  and 
I  used  to  visit  his  mother  in  her  fine  old  Virginia 
home.  And  this  girl  was  Mary  Carter.  Her  mother 
and  I  were  roommates  at  school.  I  myself  had  this 
locket  made  as  a  wedding  present  for  Mary  when  she 
married  Joseph  Gratton.  She  was  seventeen  then  and 
he  twenty.  It  was  a  love-match,  and  I  knew  nothing 
would  please  her  more  than  a  miniature  of  her  young 
husband;  so  I  had  one  painted  and  placed  her  picture 
in  one  side  of  the  locket  and  his  in  the  other.  I  can 


\ 


252  EL  ESTBANJEKO 

never  forget  her  pretty  surprise,  and  her  long  puzzling 
to  find  the  secret  of  opening  it,  the  day  I  gave  it  to 
her."  Mrs.  Anderson  was  crying  now,  unrestrainedly. 

"You  are  her  daughter,  dear,  there  is  not  a  doubt  of 
it.  You  have  her  face,  her  ways,  the  very  tones  of  her 
voice.  And  poor  little  Mary  died  among  those  savage 
Indians,  and  Joseph  is  dead,  I  know,  or  he  would 
have  followed  her  and  rescued  her." 

Francesca  was  at  the  door  with  a  message  for  her 
mistress,  and,  unnoticed  by  the  three  excited  women, 
had  drawn  cautiously  near  as  this  narrative  proceeded* 
Peering  over  Nawona's  shoulder  she  now  saw  the 
picture  in  her  hand.  She  pointed  her  wrinkled  brown 
forefinger  at  the  face  of  the  smiling  youth  with  the 
curling  brown  hair. 

"Senorita,"  she  cried,  "it  is  El  Estranjero." 

Alice  snatched  the  picture  from  Nawona's  hand  and 
stared  at  it.  There  was  the  same  high  white  forehead, 
the  same  clear  gray  eyes,  the  same  smiling  and  tender 
mouth,  the  same  expression.  True,  it  was  many  years 
younger,  but  this  resemblance  had  perplexed  her 
/'at  the  first  glance,  and  now  that  the  old  Indian  woman 
had  spoken  there  was  not  a  doubt. 

"It  is,  it  is!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  Nawona,  you  have 
found  a  father  and  El  Estranjero  has  at  last  found  a 
name. 

"Tell  us,  Mrs.  Anderson,  all  you  know  about  these 
two.  Tell  us  at  once.  Francesca,"  she  said  to  the 
old  woman,  "tell  father  to  entertain  the  gentlemen  till 


we  come." 


THE  LOCKET 


253 


"I  have  little  to  tell  you,"  Mrs.  Anderson  said. 
"Joseph  and  Mary  were  schoolmates  and  grew  up 
together  upon  adjoining  plantations.  He  chose  the 
army  as  a  profession.  They  were  married,  and  then 
came  the  Civil  War  with  all  its  confusions.  Loyal  to 
the  Federal  government,  Joseph  went  to  the  front. 
Mary's  home  was  broken  up;  her  father  and  brothers 
fought  and  died,  two  for  the  North  and  the  father  and 
one  brother  for  the  South.  When  his  command  was 
transferred  to  the  Army  of  the  West,  she  followed 
her  young  husband,  and  then,  as  my  own  husband  was 
with  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  I  lost  sight  of  the 
young  people. 

"But  who  is  this  man,"  she  said,  "that  the  miniature 
of  Joseph  Gratton  so  strangely  resembles?" 

Alice  related  the  strange  account  of  the  appearance 
of  El  Estranjero  in  the  pueblo,  his  total  loss  of  mem 
ory,  as  the  result  of  his  injuries,  privations,  and  long 
illness,  and  the  tale  related  by  Francesca  of  her  vision, 
seen  that  summer  night  when  El  Estranjero  first 
became  conscious. 

The  story  of  the  vision  removed  once  and  for  all 
Nawona's  suspicions  of  Francesca,  and  she,  in  turn, 
told  what  had  occurred  on  the  day  Mrs.  Anderson's 
letter,  telling  of  her  expected  visit,  was  received. 

Alice  was  very  thoughtful  while  this  narrative  was 
being  supplied,  and  when  Nawona  had  finished  said: 

"Let  us  agree  between  us  to  keep  this  matter  quiet 
for  the  present.  Mrs.  Anderson,  have  you  any  means 
of  finding  out  the  record  of  Joseph  Gratton?  I  mean 

17 


254  EL  ESTRANJERO 

that  part  of  his  story  that  would  supply  what  we  do 
not  know,  how  he  came  to  be  with  his  wife  and  child 
in  the  mountains  of  Southern  California?" 

"My  brother,  General  -  — ,  has  access  to  the 

records  of  the  War  Department.  They  will  probably 
unravel  that  part  of  the  mystery." 

"We  must  have  documents  that  will  convince  El 
Estranjero,"  said  Alice.  "His  mind  is  a  blank  as  to 
his  whole  past,  and  we  must  be  able  to  furnish  all  the 
proofs  of  his  identity.  So,  I  think  until  we  can  do 
this,  we  had  better  keep  silent." 

"I  must  tell  Philip,"  objected  Nawona. 

"Oh,  yes,  little  one,  we  know  that  you  could  keep 
no'  secret  from  Philip,"  smiled  Mrs.  Anderson,  "but 
I  will  not  tell  my  husband  until  I  am  fortified  with 
every  possible  proof." 

With  this  mutual  understanding  the  three  ladies 
went  out  to  meet  their  guests.  The  evening  passed 
gayly;  the  dance  was  kept  up  till  the  morning  star 
shone  in  the  sky,  and  when  the  revelry  was  over  and 
the  cavalry  had  ridden  away  at  dawn,  Alice,  pale, 
weary  and  heartsore,  threw  herself  upon  her  bed  to 
think  over  the  events  of  the  past  few  hours. 

What  effect  would  the  revelation  of  Estranjero's 
past  have  upon  his  life  and  upon  her  own?  When  he 
gazed  at  the  sweet  face  in  the  miniature,  would  his 
memory  pick  up  the  dropped  threads,  and  all  the  old 
and  forgotten  emotions  be  aroused?  Yes,  there  was 
no  doubt  that  thd  miniature  and  the  proofs  that  would 
be  brought  forth  would  perfectly  reunite  the  broken 


THE  LOCKET 


255 


chain  of  his  life,  and  then  with  kindred  and  family 
restored  to  him  he  would  go  to  take  his  rightful 
place  in  the  world. 

He  had  never  again  spoken  of  that  night  in  the 
patio.  Perhaps  even  then  some  memory  of  his  past  had 
stirred  within  him.  Perhaps  the  emotion  that  then 
thrilled  him  had  reknit  the  old  thread  and  he  had 
remembered  his  first  love,  and  it  was  the  face  in  the 
miniature  which  had  come  to  him  after  that  night  and 
so  he  had  said  no  more. 

Surely  the  remembrance  could  have  been  only  faint 
and  fugitive,  surely  he  could  not  have  recalled  a 
single  incident  to  anchor  it  and  give  it  the  proper 
place  in  the  sequence  of  his  life.  No,  that  was 
quite  impossible.  He  and  her  father  were  such  intimate 
friends  that  he  would  have  told  him. 

There  was  his  strange  attraction  toward  Nawona. 
Was  this  the  natural  affection  of  a  father  for  a  child  ? 
No,  it  must  have  been  the  faint  memory  of  his  first  ' 
love  that  stirred  within  him  that  made  him  love 
Nawona  at  first  sight,  for  Alice  did  not  doubt  that  he 
had  loved  Nawona. 

Then  Alice  thought  over  Estranjero's  past  history. 
She  pictured  in  her  fancy  the  Virginia  plantation 
where  he  was  born,  his  trudging  to  school  beside  his 
child  sweetheart,  the  unfolding  of  the  childish  romance 
into  the  fervor  of  the  man's  love.  A  fierce  pain  tugged 
at  her  heart  and  would  not  be  quieted. 

She  was  jealous  of  this  suddenly  unfolded  past  of 
the  man  she  loved.  She  was  both  wicked  and  small 


Tfjf><yt. 

.'.'  .'.jfjV'4-' 

'Sf.:- 


256 


EL  ESTBANJERO 


:>&? 


natured,  she  told  herself  many  times,  or  she  would 
rejoice  that  he  had  found  a  daughter  and  was  no 
longer  a  nameless  dependent  upon  strangers.  But  she 
did  not  rejoice;  she  wished  that  it  were  not  so,  that 
Nawona  was  still  the  girl  of  unknown  parentage 
whom  Philip  was  to  marry,  that  Estranjero  was  still 
the  nameless  man,  who  might  some  day  love  her. 

These  thoughts  surged  through  her,  then  she  sat 
up,  and  flung  back  her  hair  from  her  tear-wet  face. 

"Alice  Holcomb,"  she  said  sternly,  "y°u  are  worse 
that  I  thought  you.  You  absolutely  put  away  all  these 
unworthy  thoughts.  They  are  not  true;  if  they  were 
it  would  be  yourself  that  you  love,  not  Estranjero. 
You  are  glad  that  now  he  can  hold  up  his 
head  among  the  best.  You  are  glad  that  his  life  will 
be  enriched  with  all  the  memories  of  his  youth.  Above 
all,  Alice,  you  are  glad  that  you,  and  you  alone,  shall 
tell  him  all  these  things  with  your  own  lips.  This 
will  be  your  recompense  for  giving  him  up,  for  give 
him  up  you  do  now,  once  and  for  all.  He  belongs  to 
that  dead  woman  and  to  his  sweet  daughter.  You  have 
no  right  or  part  in  him." 

Nevertheless,  as  she  lay  down  again  and  fell  asleep, 
Alice  prayed  for  God  to  keep  him,  to  send  him  back 
safely,  and  that  somewhere,  if  not  in  this  world,  then 
in  some  future  world,  she  might  rest  her  soul  upon  the 
calm  strength  of  the  soul  of  the  man  she  loved  and 

whom  she  renounced. 

-^ 


CHAPTER  XL 

BOOTS  AND  SADDLES 

Juan,  riding  limp  and  weary  in  the  woods  at  the 
edge  of  the  desert,  with  his  face  turned  toward  the 
pueblo,  sat  up  alert  and  excited  as  his  horse,  pricking 
up  its  ears,  whinnied  and  was  answered  near  at  hand 
by  another  horse,  and  then  another,  and  another. 
Listening,  his  quick  ear  heard  the  soft  thud  of  many 
tramping  hoofs,  and  then  a  low  spoken  word  of 
command.  It  was  cavalry,  no  doubt.  They  had  heard 
his  horse,  and  were  ready  if  it  should  be  an  Apache 
pony  approaching. 

Juan  made  haste  to  ride  up  into  the  open  upon  a 
ridge,  where  he  could  be  plainly  seen,  and  sat  there 
waiting.  A  trooper  ventured  out  and  rode  straight 
toward  hirr^  his  carbine  ready  for  instant  use  if  this 
should  prove  a  ruse  and  the  Indian,  who  looked  like  a 
friendly  Mission  Indian,  but  disguise  an  ambush  of  the 
Apaches. 

When  the  trooper  was  near  enough  Juan  spoke  in 
English.  "I  am  Senor  Holcomb's  man,  Juan,"  he  said, 
"on  my  way  to  Elevado  to  ask  help  for  El  Estranjero 
and  Mr.  Gardiner,  who  are  prisoners  among  the 
Apaches." 

"Wait  here,"  commanded  the  soldier,  "and  I  will 
carry  your  message  to  Colonel  Anderson." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  Colonel  came  trotting  up  to 
[257] 

(* 


258 


EL  ESTRANJEKO 


the  place  where  Juan  sat.  From  Mr.  Holcomb  he  had 
heard  the  story  of  the  prospectors  and  knew  the  person 
nel  of  the  party,  and  that  Juan  was  with  them.  He 
listened  to  the  account  of  their  capture  with  great 
solicitude,  and  Juan  at  once  offered  to  substantiate 
his  story  by  leading  the  troop  to  the  place  where  they 
had  made  their  winter  hovel  and  by  guiding  them  to 
the  Indian  village  where  Gardiner  and  Estranjero 
were  held.  He  thanked  the  Virgin  for  his  good  fortune 
in  meeting  the  troops,  as  his  fears  for  Gardiner  and 
Estranjero  had  urged  him  to  travel  night  and  day 
and  he  was  afraid  that  neither  he  nor  his  horse  could 
bear  the  fatigues  of  the  long  journey.  He  had  not 
taken  time  to  hunt  for  game,  and  had  subsisted 
as  best  he  might  on  the  little  jerky  he  happened  to 
have  in  his  pouch  before  the  Indians  looted  the  camp. 

The  cavalry  was  plentifully  supplied  with  rations, 
and  Juan  was  given  a  fresh  mount.  Riding  at  the 
head  of  the  cavalcade,  he  led  them  across  the  desert, 
into  the  Nevada  woods  and  so  to  the  ruins  of  the 
$11  old  camp.  The  Colonel,  now  thoroughly  convinced 
and  thoroughly  aroused,  pushed  his  men  forward  with 
all  speed.  From  this  point  they  moved  with  the 
greatest  caution,  and  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Apache  village  the  very  night  Bull-face  returned  from 
his  fall  hunt  and  assembled  his  warriors  in  council. 

A  rocky  box  canyon  with  overhanging  ledges  and 
with  a  narrow  entrance  proved  to  be  a  good  hiding 
place  for  their  horses,  so  the  troop  was  dismounted 
,and,  under  the  guidance  of  Juan,  crept  undiscovered 


They  moved  with  the  greatest  caution." — Page  258 


BOOTS  AND  SADDLES  259 

to  the  very  edge  of  the  council  fire.  The  pow-wow 
was  a  short  one,  every  voice  apparently  had  been  given 
for  the  death  of  the  prisoners,  and  Rainmaker,  Bull- 
face,  and  the  other  chiefs  present  concurred.  The  vil 
lage  was  off  the  reservation,  the  band  had  evidently 
broken  loose  from  all  restraint  and,  while  it  was  evident 
that  they  had  stumbled  by  accident  upon  the  two  pris- 
oners,  their  attitude  toward  the  whites  that  might  cross 
their  path  in  their  present  mood  was  plain  enough. 

Colonel  Anderson  and  Juan  could  gain  no  sight  of 
the  prisoners,  however,  and  a  whispered  consultation 
decided  them  that  the  first  thought  must  be  for  their 
rescue.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  for  the 
troop  to  surround  the  village  and  wait  the  signal  to 
attack. 

When  the  pow-wow  was  over,  two  holes  about  ten 
feet  apart  were  dug  in  the  ground  and  two  strong 
green  saplings  were  set  up.  The  squaws  and  children 
had  evidently  been  heaping  up  sticks  and  brush  for  the 
occasion,  for  a  great  pile  of  fuel  was  immediately 
forthcoming  and  placed  about  the  stakes.  Then,  from  '' 
a  wickiup  near  the  center  of  the  village,  El  Estranjero 
and  Gardiner  were  led  forth.  Both  were  gaunt  and 
haggard  but  undaunted.  Both  had  their  arms  firmly 
bound  behind  them,  but  neither  showed  the  least  sign 
of  fear. 

"Well,   Estranjero,"   said   Gardiner,   as  they  came  ' 
forth,  "every  man  has  to  die  sometime,  and  our  time 
has  come." 


260 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


"Yes,  Gardiner,  it  seems  that  it  has,"  without  a 
tremor  answered  El  Estranjero. 

"Well,  there's  always  something  to  be  thankful 
for,"  rejoined  the  philosopher,  "and  I'm  thankful  that 
we're  to  be  burned  with  dry  wood.  Good-bye,  friend, 
it  won't  be  a  long  job." 

"Good-bye,  Gardiner ;  we've  had  many  pleasant 
days  together.  You're  a  man  as  well  as  a  philoso 
pher,"  was  Estranjero's  answer. 

They  had  now  arrived  at  the  stake.  A  painted 
brave  had  sprung  forward  with  the  thongs,  ready  to 
bind  them  to  the  upright  posts ;  two  others  stood,  one 
at  each  pile  of  wood,  with  a  flaming  brand  in  hand 
ready  to  light  the  pyres;  but  at  that  instant  a  shot 
from  the  cover  of  the  brush  struck  one  of  the  torch- 
bearers  in  the  breast  and  he  fell. 

The  momentary  consternation  was  quite  sufficient 
for  the  five  scouts  posted  in  the  nearer  covert  to  rush 
A  forward,  hastily  scatter  the  faggots  with  their  boots, 
\  cut  the  thongs  of  the  prisoners,  and  with  leveled 
carbines,  back  into  the  brush  with  El  Estranjero  and 
^'Gardiner,  protecting  them  as  they  retreated. 

The  uniform  of  Uncle  Sam's  soldiers  was  a  most 
unpleasant  sight  for  the  Apache  braves  at  that  mo 
ment.  Their  experiences  with  Uncle  Sam's  boys  in 
the  past  had  so  impressed  them  with  the  latter's 
prowess  that  they  had  no  desire  again  to  come  into 
contact  with  them.  They  had  so  often  succeeded  in 
making  the  Government  believe  that  it  was  some  other 
"bad  boy"  had  done  naughty  work,  in  case  of  border 


BOOTS  AND  SADDLES 


261 


depredations,  that  they  thought  that  they  might  easily 
do  so  this  time,  but  here  they  were,  many  miles  from 
their  proper  place  if  captured,  and  taken  red-handed  in 
an  outrage  upon  white  men. 

They  were  quick  to  see  the  logic  of  the  situation, 
and  felt  sure  that  there  must  be  a  considerable  force 
surrounding  them,  else  the  attack  would  not  have  been 
so  bold.  Whether  they  should  fight  or  run  was  the 
question  that  must  have  occurred  to  each,  and  it 
seemed  that  the  unanimous  opinion  was  that  it  would 
be  best  to  scatter  quietly  and  trust  to  luck  and  the  dark 
ness  of  the  night  to  evade  pursuit. 

A  few  shots  from  the  troopers  denoted  that  a  few    - 
of  the  hostiles  had  exposed  themselves,  but  by  leaving  - 
behind  them  everything  in  the  village,  and  taking  at 
once  to   the  brush,   they  made  their  get-away,   and 
though  the  troopers  remained  upon  the  watch  in  their 
ambush  till  daylight,  there  were  few  results  of  the 
surprise,  beyond  the  re-capture  of  the  prisoners. 

Feeling  sure  that  the  hostiles  would  now  make  every 
attempt  to  reach  their  reservation  or  rallying  a  large 
band,  become  openly  defiant,  Colonel  Anderson  sent 
Juan  and  five  troopers  back  to  Elevado  with  Gardiner 
and  Estranjero,  and  striking  the  Old  Santa  Fe  trail, 
he  rode  with  the  rest  of  the  company  to  the  nearest  fort 
in  the  Apache  country,  that  he  might  make  report  upon 
his  movements  and  render  assistance  if  such  were 
needed. 


fc 


—  ft 


CHAPTER  XLI 


A  PSYCHIC  PHENOMENON 

Old  Francesca  was  ill.  Rheumatism  had  her  in  its 
grasp,  and  Vera  was  queening  it  over  her  kitchen. 
This  in  itself  would  have  been  grief  enough,  but  to  be 
laid  by  the  heels  now  when  she  longed  to  be  out  and 
in  the  wilderness  seeking  Juan  and  Estranjero! 

Alice  was  sitting  by  her  side.  It  was  early  in  the 
morning  and  the  old  woman  dozed,  so  Alice  waited 
with  a  tray  and  some  delicacy  to  tempt  her  appetite, 
until  the  Indian  woman  awoke.  When  she  opened 
her  eyes,  Alice  was  surprised  to  notice  how  wild  they 
looked. 

"Senorita,"  cried  the  old  woman,  "he  calls,  Estran- 
|  jero  calls,  and  I  cannot  go.  The  night  before  and 
again  last  night  he  called  to  me.  His  hands  are  bound, 
his  clothes  in  rags,  and  he  limps  as  he  walks.  He  is 
driven  along  over  rocks  and  streams  by  Apaches  and 
they  spit  upon  him  and  revile  him,  but  in  reply  he  says 
nothing. 

"With  him  there  is  another,  but  not  Juan,  and  he, 
too,  is  bound,  and  he,  too,  limps.  Last  night  I  saw 
them  both.  They  sit  in  a  village  and  they  are  still 
jwith  hands  tied  and  now  their  feet,  too,  are  tied,  but 
nowhere  is  Juan.  Oh,  Senorita,  send  some  one  to 
El  Estranjero,  he  calls,  and  he  calls !" 

[262] 


A  PSYCHIC  PHENOMENON 


263 


Alice  heard  the  old  woman  with  a  shudder.  "I  will 
send  some  one,  Francesca,"  she  said,  "now  eat." 

"If  they  are  not  here  when  they  said  they  would 
return,"  Alice  thought,  "I  will  urge  father  to  go 
and  find  them."  She  began  to  feel  that  there  was 
something  out  of  the  natural  in  this  power  of  Francesca 
to  communicate  with  Estranjero. 

Even  at  that  time  many  devoted  scientists  had 
investigated  various  mental  phenomena,  but  the 
knowledge  of  psychic  occulta  was  not  so  widespread 
then  as  it  is  now.  Had  it  been,  Alice  could  have 
understood  that  Francesca' s  long  vigil  at  Estranjero's 
bedside  had  brought  her  mind  into  rapport  with  that 
of  the  patient.  Estranjero  was  then  in  what  is  now 
called  the  subjective  state.  The  subjective  mentality, 
being  in  the  ascendant  and  knowing  all  things,  past, 
present  or  future,  could  convey  by  mental  transfer 
ence  or  telepathy  what  was  in  the  subjective  mind, 
and  thus  reveal  the  history  of  his  past.  Alice  would 
have  known  that  the  subjective  consciousness,  through 
the  total  suspension  of  Estranjero's  memory,  was  on 
the  alert  to  communicate  with  the  first  person  able  to 
receive  its  message,  and  this  communication  once 
established  was  likely  to  be  repeated  when  the  objective 
consciousness  was  out  of  touch  with  the  subjective, 
as  when  he  was  in  normal  sleep.  Then  it  was  that 
Francesca  was  always  able  to  receive  the  "call,"  as  she 
called  it,  of  Estranjero,  even  though  she  herself  was 
wide  awake. 

Alice  would  have  known  that  the  "ghosts"  and  other 


264 


EL  ESTRANJEBO 


so-called  occult  phenomena  that  are  constantly  being 
told  of,  are  due  to  this  power  of  the  subjective  mind  to 
convey  what  we  now  call  telepathic  messages;  but 
knowing  none  of  these  things,  she  could  only  ponder 
the  strange  experiences  of  the  old  woman  with  secret 
uneasiness  and  wait  with  a  woman's  patience  for  what 
time  would  bring  forth. 


CHAPTER  XLII 


A   LETTER 

As  Colonel  Anderson  had  given  the  men  he  sent 
with  Estranjero,  Gardiner,  and  Juan  orders  to  proceed 
slowly  and  at  the  convenience  of  the  two  rescued  men, 
it  was  decided  by  them  to  camp  in  their  old  cliff 
dwelling  for  a  few  days,  till  they  could  recruit  their 
strength,  impaired  by  the  scant  living  in  the  Indian 
village. 

Juan  and  the  soldiers  hunted  in  the  woods,  while 
Gardiner,  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  do  so,  resumed  his 
search  for  the  prospect  hole  that  he  had  come  to  find. 
At  last  he  found  it  and,  making  his  monuments  and 
locating  properly  his  mine,  was  then  ready  to  return 
and  wait  for  another  season  before  working  it.  As 
the  winter  was  now  almost  upon  them,  and  the  snows 
would  make  the  mountains  impassable,  it  was  decided 
to  return  at  once. 

As  is  sometimes  the  case  in  Southern  California, 
the  early  rains  were  all  warm  and  no  snow  fell  in  the 
mountains  until  long  after  this  journey  was  over. 
The  weather  remaining  bright  and  warm,  the  home 
trail  was  followed  in  a  leisurely  manner,  and  it  was 
not  until  a  week  before  Christmas  that  Estranjero  saw 
the  blue  smoke  from  the  chimney  of  the  Holcomb 
house  and  the  fair  valley  outspread  in  all  its  beauty. 

They  arrived  late  at  night,  and  Alice  did  not  know 
[265] 


266  EL  ESTBANJEEO 

they  had  come,  until  happening  to  glance  from  her  win 
dow  she  saw  Juan  smoking  his  cigarette  at  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  patio,  and  Estranjero,  thinner,  more 
bronzed  than  she  had  ever  seen  him,  but  otherwise 
unchanged,  talking  with  her  father  as  they  sat  on 
the  bench  under  the  rosebush. 

Her  hands  trembled  as  she  finished  coiling  her  hair 
and  fastened  her  linen  collar,  but  she  soon  regained 
her  composure  and  met  him  at  breakfast  as  though  he 
had  been  gone  but  a  day. 

Mrs.  Anderson  watched  Estranjero  curiously  that 
morning,  as  he  told  of  his  capture  and  rescue,  and 
gave  an  account  of  all  that  had  happened  in  the  weeks 
since  he  went  away.  More  than  once  she  addressed 
some  question  to  him  that  directed  his  full  attention  to 
her,  thinking  that  he  might  recognize  her;  for  the 
instant  she  saw  him,  all  doubt  she  might  have  had  of 
his  identity  vanished,  and  every  trick  of  voice  and 
gesture  reminded  her  of  the  lad  she  had  long  before 
known  so  well. 

That  day  Mrs.  Anderson  went  into  Alice's  room 
with  a  voluminous  letter  in  her  hands.  Alice  had  not 
spoken  half  a  dozen  words  to  Estranjero,  but  some 
subtle  sympathy  between  the  two  women  had  apprised 
Mrs.  Anderson,  before  she  had  seen  Estranjero  half 
an  hour  in  Alice's  presence,  that  she  loved  him,  though 
what  his  feelings  toward  the  girl  were,  she  could  not 
determine,  so  careful  was  the  guard  he  kept  upon 
himself. 

The  letter  bore  a  Washington  postmark,  and  we 


A  LETTER 


267 


will  not  quote  its  language;  but  Alice,  reading  it, 
found  that  the  General,  Mrs.  Anderson's  brother,  had 
made  a  most  thorough  search  of  the  records,  his  own 
keen  interest  in  the  Gratton  family  causing  him  to 
overlook  no  detail.  His  influence  with  the  War 
Department  was  such  that  every  assistance  was  granted 
and  every  latitude  given. 

He  found  that  Joseph  Gratton,  had  been  a  student 
at  West  Point,  had  become  at  an  early  age  a  Colonel 
in  the  regular  army,  and  was  loyal  to  the  Union  when 
Virginia  seceded.  He  had  distinguished  himself 
at  the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  where  he  had  been  wounded 
in  the  right  wrist.  For  his  bravery  in  this  battle  he 
was  promoted. 

The  Pay  Master's  Department  showed  the  name  of 
Colonel  Gratton  on  the  pay  roll  for  two  years  after 
the  former  record  ended,  with  accumulation  of  salary 
for  nearly  that  time;  then  all  search  of  the  record  was 
unavailing,  until  it  was  discovered  from  a  Secret 
Service  record  that  Gratton  had  later  been  ordered 
to  California  upon  the  request  of  General  H.,  Com 
mandant  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  for  an  officer  of  exper 
ience  who  could  speak  Spanish  to  be  sent  out  to  the  f 
southern  end  of  the  state  where  the  emissaries  of  the 
Confederate  *  government  were  using  every  effort  to 
induce  the  people  to  secede  from  the  Union.  It  was 
his  opinion  that  a  man  of  energy  and  ability  should 
organize  leagues  for  the  propagation  of  loyal  sentiment 
and  to  prevent,  if  possible,  this  secession. 

Gratton  was  the  man  chosen  for  this  post,  and  a 


268 


EL  ESTBANJEBO 


record  on  file  gave  a  request  from  him  that  his  wife 
and  child  might  be  allowed  to  accompany  him.,  as  he 
might  be  gone  months  or  years.  This  request  had 
been  granted,  and  a  requisition  made  on  the  Treasury 
for  the  expenses.  Following  the  matter  further,  the 
General  found  that  Gratton  had  reported  his  safe 
arrival  at  St.  Louis  and  that  on  the  next  day  he  would 
join  an  immigrant  train  going  West.  As  his  mission 
was  a  secret  one,  it  was  presumed  that  he  had  been 
ordered  to  do  this. 

Another  letter  filed  in  the  Department  from  the 
Commandant  of  the  Division  of  the  Pacific  Coast, 
stated  that  he  had  received  a  report  which  it  had  been 
impossible  to  verify,  that  the  immigrant  train  in  which 
Gratton  traveled  had  been  attacked  by  Indians  and 
that  the  attacking  party  had  been  led  by  a  Confederate 
officer.  As  every  individual  in  the  train  had  perished, 
and  as  Gratton  was  never  again  heard  of,  the  Com 
mandant  thought  he  and  his  wife  and  child  must  have 
been  killed. 

The  indefatigable  General  then  consulted  the  war 
records  of  the  Confederacy  and  finally  found  an  order 
directing  G'eneral  B.  to  send  some  one  to  intercept 
Colonel  Gratton,  whose  movements  had  been  reported 
and  whose  mission  was  suspected,  and  to  prevent  his 
reaching?  California  at  all  hazards.  Later  on  he  found 
that  Major  D>,  to  whom  had  been  assigned  the  duty 
of  capturing  Colonel  Gratton,  had  reported  that  he 
had  been  successful  in  intercepting  the  immigrant 
train,  but  that  the  Indians  employed  by  General  B.  to 


A  LETTER  269 

aid  him,  became  unmanageable  in  the  attack  and  had, 
unfortunately,  murdered  everybody  in  the  train  with 
the  exception  of  Colonel  Gratton's  wife  and  daughter, 
and  that  they  had  been  given  over  to  the  Indians, 
who  demanded  them,  and  whose  demands  the  Major 
had  no  means  of  resisting. 

When  Alice  had  given  this  letter  a  careful  reading, 
Mrs.  Anderson  said,  "He  is  Joseph  Gratton.  I  knew 
him  at  once.  Upon  his  right  wrist  is  the  scar  made 
by  the  bullet  at  Bull  Run.  I  noticed  it  this  morning 
as  we  sat  at  breakfast.  What  shall  we  do,  Alice  ?  The 
Gratton  estate  is  a  rich  property.  It  is  in  need  of  a 
master,  and  Joseph  is  the  last  of  his  family." 

"Wait,  dear  friend,  let  me  tell  Estranjero  all  the 
things  in  this  letter  and  try  to  awaken  his  memory  of 
the  past.  I  have  known  him  so  many  years,  I  believe 
I  can  better  approach  this  subject  with  him  than  any 
other  could." 

"Then  you  shall  do  it,  Alice,  even  before  we  tell 
Nawona  that  the  proofs  have  come.  Here,  take  the 
letter  and  let  me  know  as  soon  as  you  can  how  he  has 
received  it." 


18 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

THE    REVELATION 

Alice  found  no  opportunity  to  speak  privately  with 
Estranjero  until  late  in  the  afternoon.  Then,  as  he 
took  the  path  toward  the  cypress  hedge,  she  threw  a 
fleecy  wrap  about  her  shoulders  and  making  a  short 
cut  from  the  corner  of  the  patio,  entered  the  path  a 
few  steps  ahead  of  him,  apparently  unconscious  of  his 
presence. 

She  heard  his  step  falter  an  instant,  then  he  came 
forward  raising  his  sombrero  and  bowing  to  her. 
"Are  you  contemplating  a  walk,  Miss  Alice?" 
"It  is  near  sunset,"  she  replied,  with  a  little  inward 
qualm  at  her  own  cowardice,  "and  it  is  pleasant  at  this 
hour." 

"It  is  always  pleasant  here,"  said  Estranjero,   as 
they  walked  along,  "and  I  shall  often  think  of  this 
orchard  when  I  am  gone." 
"Gone!"  almost  gasped  Alice. 
"Yes,  Miss  Alice,  at  last  I  have  determined  to  leave 
Elevado." 

"Are  you  tired  of  the  place?"  she  inquired. 
"Who  could  tire  of  this  place?"  he  replied,  smiling. 
"Its  beauty  is  as  perfect  when  the  rains  are  falling 
as  in  the  driest  of  the  summer  weather,  and  in  the 
dry  weather  it  is  as  perfect  as  when  it  is  green  in 
the  spring.  No,  I  should  never  tire  of  Elevado." 


THE  REVELATION  271 

"Then  why  are  you  leaving?"  queried  Alice.  They 
had  by  this  time  come  to  the  gate  in  the  hedge,  but 
Alice  motioned  Estranjero  to  a  little  summerhouse, 
thatched  with  palm  leaves,  that  stood  at  the  angle  of 
the  hedge.  Here  she  often  sat  in  the  bright  after 
noons  with  her  books  and  sewing.  Now  sinking  into 
one  of  the  low  chairs  she  motioned  El  Estranjero 
to  another. 

He  took  off  his  sombrero  and  laid  it  upon  a  table, 
and  now  Alice  noticed  the  haggardness  of  his  usually 
placid  face.  The  control  he  habitually  exercised 
seemed  to  be  broken  by  some  strong  emotion,  and  his 
eyes  were  troubled  as  he  looked  at  the  downcast  face 
of  the  girl.  She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then 
glanced  at  him.  "Estranjero,  you  cannot  think  of 
leaving  us  after  all  these  years." 

"Yes,  Alice.  I  have  been  too  long  a  beneficiary  of 
your  father's  hospitality." 

"How  has  he  made  you  feel  that,  Senor?" 

"He  has  never  made  me  feel  it.     He  has  been  like 
a  tender  elder  brother  to  me,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
his  kindness;  but  I  have  lately  realized  that  to  stay 
here  indefinitely  is  hardly  the  manly  thing  for  me  to 
do.     I  am  a  man  without  a  name  or  place  in  the  world.  ;5j||,:- 
I  must  achieve  both  by  my  own  exertions,  and  be| 
dependent  upon  myself." 

"I  understand  you,  Senor,  and  cannot  blame  you 
the  feeling,  but  can  nothing  change  your  decision?" 

"I  can  think  of  nothing.  I  have  been  seeking  this 
opportunity,  hoping  to  see  you  alone  that  I  might  tell 


272 


EL  ESTRANJEBO 


i 


you  first,  and  also  that  I  might  ask  your  pardon." 

"For  what?" 

"For  a  great  presumption  some  weeks  ago,  in  the 
patio,  when  the  mocking  birds  were  singing,"  he 
replied  hesitatingly,  a  deep  color  suffusing  his  face,  the 
veins  of  his  throat  throbbing  perceptibly. 

Alice  said  nothing,  and  he  continued,  "I  knew  that 
you  were  much  attached  to  Philip,  but  I  knew,  too, 
that  you  were  own  cousins  and  I  had  not  thought  it 
possible  that  you  loved  him  in  that  way." 

Alice  was  staring  now  in  the  utmost  astonishment, 
but  El  Estranjero  was  gazing  at  the  floor  and  did  not 
notice  her  look. 

"I  knew  it  soon  after,  however,  for  I  saw  you 
together — your  caresses — by  accident,—  "  all  this  very 
hesitatingly  and  gently.  "I  could  not  blame  you.  He  is 
young  and  handsome,  has  everything  to  make  you 
happy.  I  have  camped  with  him,  and  tramped  with 
him.  I  have  seen  him  bear  hardship  and  face  danger. 
I  have  sounded  him  upon  all  the  intimate  themes 
which  make  up  the  mental  life  of  men,  and,  Alice,  I 
tell  you  that  you  have  chosen  well." 

Something  in  Alice's  silence  caused  him  to  look  up 
at  her.  She  was  gazing  at  him  merrily.  "Why, 
Estranjero,"  she  cried,  "haven't  you  been  told  yet?" 

"Told  what?" 

"That  Philip  is  engaged  to  Nawona,  that  they  are 
to  be  married  Christmas  Day.  The  sly  minx!  I 
thought  she  had  told  you  all  about  it." 

"Nawona,   Philip!"   stammered  Estranjero. 


THE  REVEfca 


273 


"Yes,  Nawona — Philip,"  Alice  laughed,  imitating: 
his  accents,  "and  it's  as  plain  as  daylight  that  they! 
have  adored  each  other  from  the  very  first." 

"I  have  not  had  time  to  talk  with  Nawona  since 
I  came  back,  and  to  tell  the  truth  my  mind  was  so  -j 
possessed  by  the  ideas  I  have  just  revealed  to  you, 
that  I  am  afraid  I  should  not  have  understood  without  -v 
being  told  in  so  many  words." 

"No,  Estranjero,  Philip  and  I  have  always  been 
like  brother  and  sister,  and  the  idea  of  any  other 
relation  never  entered  my  head  or  his;  besides  hei 
is  my  cousin,  and  I  don't  believe  in  such  marriages." 

Estranjero  arose  and  took  a  couple  of  turns  up 
and  down  the  floor,  pondering  this  turn  of  affairs, 
giving  vent  to  some  ejaculation  of  surprise  under  his 
breath.  Then  he  planted  himself  firmly  in  his  chair, 
and  looked  at  Alice. 

"Alice,"  he  said,  "you  may  guess  what  this  informa 
tion  means  to  me,  and  what  new  courage  it  gives  me 
to  do  what  I  must  now  do." 

Alice  was  mute.  He  bent  forward,  took  one  of  the 
hands  that  lay  in  her  lap  and  raised  it  respectfully  to 
his  lips. 

"Alice,  that  night  in  the  patio,  I  told  you  that  my 
soul  was  calling  for  you.  It  has  called  you  every  hour 
since.  In  the  dark  nights  in  the  wilderness,  under 
the  stars  upon  the  mountains,  through  the  dust  and 
sunlight  of  the  long  trails,  my  soul  has  called  you 
and  will  call  until  yours  answers." 

She  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  he  went  on. 


"When  I  have  a  name  and  place  and  a  home  to 
offer  you,  Alice,  I  shall  come  back  to  you,  and  if  you 
are  heart  free  and  will  listen  to  me,  I  will  tell  you 
then  how  dearly  I  love  you.  Now  I  know  I  have 
no  right.  Yet  there  is  one  question  I  ask  you  now, 
Alice,  would  you  then  look  with  favor  upon  a  man 
without  a  name  or  a  past?" 

A  great  fear  seemed  to  seize  El  Estranjero  then, 
for  Alice  looked  him  calmly  in  the  eyes  and  said, 

"Estranjero,  the  man  I  love  has  both  a  name  and 
a  past.  If  you  will  be  patient  with  me,  I  will  tell 
you  about  him." 

This  seemed  deliberate  cruelty  in  Alice,  but  while 
he  had  been  speaking,  she  had  determined  to  give  his 
mind  a  preliminary  shock,  so  that  the  great  shock  she 
was  now  to  deal  him  would  not  absolutely  stun  him. 
In  the  conflict  of  his  present  emotions,  there  would 
no  doubt  be  a  link  with  those  of  the  past. 

Alice  saw  clearly  what  her  own  position  might  be 
should  he  instantly  recall  his  youth  and  early  love.  A 
direct  answer  to  his  appeal,  she  felt,  would  be  unjust 
to  him  and  would  place  her  in  a  false  position  when 
his  early  love  was  remembered. 

He  was  the  soul  of  honor.  He  should  not  be  bound 
to  her  by  a  single  tie  other  than  that  of  love,  and  he 
must  know  his  own  history,  his  own  past  and  his 
relation  to  Nawona  before  she  would  answer  him. 

Then,  she  thought  as  he  was  speaking,  would  not 
the  father-affection  sweep  over  him  and  dominate  his 
feelings  when  he  knew  the  fair  Nawona  was  flesh 


THE  EEVELATION  275 

of  his  flesh  ?  She  had  often  read  of  the  rush  of  feel 
ing  of  the  mother  for  her  new-born  child,  a  feeling 
that  overmasters  every  other  emotion,  and  the  power  of 
which  often  submerges  even  wifely  love. 

"I  will  be  fair  and  frank  with  him,"  she  said,  and 
so  she  looked  him  in  the  eye  and  repeated,  "I  love  a 
man  who  has  name  and  place  in  the  world,  and  I  wish 
you  to  listen  while  I  tell  you  about  him."  * 

Alice  moved  her  chair  where  she  could  study  every 
emotion  that  showed  upon  Estranjero's  face.  He  had 
laid  her  hand  down  reverently  in  her  lap,  but  now 
to  his  great  surprise  she  took  his  right  hand  in  her 
firm,  cool  clasp,  turned  it  over  and  pointed  to  a  long 
scar  upon  his  wrist. 

"Estranjero,  where  did  you  get  the  wound  that  made 
that  mark?"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  it  curiously.  "I  have  often  wondered, 
but  so  far  as  I  know  it  has  always  been  there.  It  is 
part  of  the  mystery  of  my  life  that  I  cannot  penetrate." 

"Well,  keep  your  mind  on  that  scar,"  Alice  said, 
"and  listen  to  my  story." 

This  was  a  curious  beginning,  he  thought.  Then  he 
flushed.  Perhaps  she  thought  he  was  unable  to  con- ': 
centrate  sufficiently,  on  account  of  his  disappointment, 
to  listen  to  her,  and  had  used  this  little  ruse  to  steady 
him.  Well,  he  suffered,  but  he  was  a  man  and  he  would 
bear  it.  He  said  nothing,  and  Alice  began. 

"In  a  fair  Virginia  valley  there  is  a  broad  plantation. 
In  that  plantation  about  the  center  of  the  green  fields, 
there  is  a  large  white  house  with  columns  rising  nearl 


276 


EL  ESTBANJEBO 


to  the  roof,  and  these  columns  support  a  wide  gallery 
running  clear  across  the  front  and  around  three  sides. 
There  are  roses  and  lilacs  and  honeysuckle  in  the  old 
fashioned  front  garden,  and  in  the  rear  is  a  vegetable 
garden  where  a  white-headed  old  negro — his  name  is 
Cuffy — hoes  and  waters  the  young  vegetables,  and  he 
is  always  humming  some  kind  of  a  tune,  usually  a 
hymn.'' 

Estranjero  now  was  watching  the  speaker  with 
strained  attention,  and  Alice  wondered  if  this  picture 
so  faithfully  described  to  her  by  Mrs.  Anderson  and 
so  often  rehearsed  in  her  own  mind  awoke  any  dor 
mant  memory. 

"On  the  gallery,"  she  went  on  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "in  the  long  afternoons  of  the  summer,  a  woman 
sits  with  a  little  boy.  The  woman  has  blue  eyes  and 
golden  hair;  the  boy  has  brown  curls  and  gray  eyes, 
and  there  is  one  toy  he  loves  above  all  others,  a  rocking 
horse  with  a  real  mane  and  tail.  He  calls  it  Tom,  for 
he  has  a  real  pony  in  the  barn  he  calls  Tom.  Some 
times  he  romps  there  with  a  huge  yellow  and  white 
St.  Bernard  dog  that  he  calls  Provo,  and  sometimes  he 
hitches  a  little  red  wagon  to  the  great  creature  and  is 
drawn  swiftly  over  the  graveled  driveway,  shouting 
and  laughing." 

Estranjero's  forehead  had  begun  to  wrinkle  in  a 
puzzled  frown.  "Why  was  Alice  telling  him  this  long 
story  ?  It  was  unlike  her  to  do  so  much  talking  to  so 
little  purpose.  However,  he  was  here  beside  her,  he 
could  smell  the  faint  perfume  from  her  bright  hair, 


— > 


THE  EEVELATION 


277 


and  her  soft  breath  almost  fanned  his  cheek;  let  her 
talk  as  long  as  she  would,  he  would  listen  gladly,  for 
there  was  no  other  music  like  her  voice." 

"Are  you  listening?"  inquired  Alice,  suspecting  him 
of  wandering  in  his  attention  to  her  story.  He  pulled 
himself  together  with  a  smile. 

"I  am  listening  with  the  most  absorbed  attention. 
You  are  a  good  story  teller,  Alice,  I  did  not  know  you 
had  such  a  gift." 

"Now,  this  is  an  unusual  story,  and  all  I  am  telling 
you  is  preliminary,"  Alice  replied,  "but  did  you  ever 
see  such  a  house,  and  such  a  woman  and  child  as  I  am 
describing?" 

"Never,"  said  Estranjero  with  decision. 

Alice  pondered  a  minute  and  then  continued :  "Some 
times  a  little  girl,  who  lives  in  that  house  that  can  just 
be  seen  from  the  northeastern  corner  of  the  gallery, 
comes  over  to  visit  this  little  boy,  and  plays  with  him 
on  the  lawn  and  romps  with  him  on  the  gallery.  She 
has  blue  eyes  and  brown  hair,  like  Nawona's." 

"Like  Nawona's,"  repeated  Estranjero. 

"Yes,  arid  the  boy  calls  her  Mary  and  she  calls  him 
Joseph." 

"Quite  scriptural  names  you  have  chosen,  Alice." 

"Well,  the  boy  grows  older,  he  carries  Mary's  books  ^ 
to  the  schoolhouse  upon  the  side  hill  yonder  by  the 
river.  He  thinks  there  was  never  anything  so  sweet 
in  the  world  as  her  rosy  cheeks,  and  as  he  grows  in 
stature  this  feeling  grows  upon  him;  but  there  comes 
a  time  when  he  must  part  from  Mary.  His  parents 


278 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


send  him  to  a  preparatory  school  and  he  does  not  see 
his  home  nor  Mary  for  many  a  day." 

Estranjero  was  still  impassive. 

"I  suppose,  now,  you  will  tell  me  that  Mary  falls  in 
love  with  some  other  boy  and  poor  Joseph  is  thrown 
over." 

"Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  Alice,  "he  thinks  of  Mary 
continually,  for  his  nature  is  deep  and  steadfast  and 
mature  even  in  early  youth.  So  he  thinks  of  Mary 
always  in  those  days  of  school  life;  in  the  vacations 
he  spends  nearly  all  his  time  with  her  roaming  the 
green  fields,  for  she  has  grown  more  lovely  as  she  has 
grown  in  stature,  and  she  is  as  true  and  sweet  as  she 
is  beautiful." 

For  a  moment  Alice's  eyes  were  misty.  She  had  a 
/  vision  of  Estranjero  and  his  early  love  strolling  in 
the  enchanted  valley  of  their  youth  and  her  heart  con 
tracted  with  a  sharp  pain;  but  she  told  herself  she 
would  be  faithful  to  that  dead  wife  who  was  so  true 
to  him,  and  she  would  recall  her  to  his  memory  if  it 
were  possible. 

Her  voice  was  very  tender  as  she  continued : 

"Then  there  came  a  time  when  Joseph  was  sent  to 
West  Point.  He  was  a  serious-minded  young  man 
I  now,  and  often  thought  of  the  danger  threatening 
his  country,  for  Virginia  was  foremost  in  the  agitation 
that  was  then  going  on  concerning  slavery,  and 
already  there  was  quiet  talk  of  secession.  Joseph's 
sympathies  were  with  the  North  and  he  had  already 
made  up  his  mind  which  side  he  would  take  if  there 


THE  REVELATION  279 

was  to  be  war  when  he  came  home  at  twenty  and  was 
married  to  his  dear  Mary." 

Alice  now  continued  rapidly :  "The  war  was  finally 
declared  and  Joseph  went  to  the  front  as  a  Colonel  of 
volunteers,  and  in  one  of  the  early  battles,  the  first 
battle  of  Bull  Run,  he  was  struck  by  a  bullet  in  the 
right  wrist,  and  it  made  a  scar  just  like  that,"  and 
Alice  laid  her  soft  fingers  upon  the  scar  and  left  her 
hand  there  as  she  seached  Estranjero's  impassive  face. 

At  first  he  wondered  if  that  lingering  touch  could 
have  been  an  accident.  It  must  have  been,  but  there 
was  something  indescribably  sweet  in  the  voice  and 
manner  of  the  woman  before  him,  some  indefinable 
solicitude  for  him  that  began  to  penetrate  his  conscious 
ness  and  give  him  a  warm  glow  that  suffused  his  eyes 
with  light. 

"After  a  while  Joseph  was  sent  West  upon  a  secret 
mission.  His  faithful  Mary  accompanied  him,  and 
now  there  was  a  little  girl,  a  dainty  creature  about  five 
years  old,  for  Joseph  and  Mary  had  been  married  six 
years  now,  and  the  little  child  must  have  been  a  great 
delight  and  comfort  to  them  on  the  long  journey  as 
they  crossed  the  wide  plains  in  the  wagon  of  an  immi 
grant  train. 

"I  know  nothing  whatever  about  that  journey,  so  will 
skip  that  part  and  come  to  a  night  when  they  were 
encamped  upon  the  mountain,  an  awful  night  of  rain 
and  thunder  and  lightning,  and  while  all  were  asleepi 
there  were  shrieks  and  cries,  and  the  Indians  broke  out  ~M 
of  the  woods  and  before  the  men  could  find  their  guns,  (3 


280 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


the  savages  had  dragged  the  women  and  children  from 
their  beds,  had  struck  down  their  natural  defenders  and 
murdered  them.  There  was  a  Conferedate  officer  with 
them.  He  had  learned  Joseph's  mission  and  had  been 
detailed  to  frustrate  it,  but  the  Indians  he  was  com 
manding  had  broken  all  restraint,  and  he  was  power 
less  to  prevent  the  slaughter. 

"Joseph  was  struck  down,  and  then  Mary,  wild  with 
grief,  was  carried  into  captivity — with  her  little  girl. 
So  greatly  had  the  horror  of  seeing  her  husband  killed 
at  her  feet  and  the  murder  of  the  helpless  women,  and 
children  preyed  upon  her  mind,  that  from  that  night 
she  was  hopelessly  insane,  and  she  died  three  years 
later  in  a  violent  fit  of  mania." 

'That  is  a  sad  story,"  said  El  Estranjero.  "Why 
have  you  told  it  to  me,  Alice?" 

"Wait,  it  is  not  finished.  There  was  a  little  girl. 
Well,  this  child  was  adopted  by  an  Indian  chief  and 
roamed  the  woods  and  desert  with  the  Indians  until 
she  was  grown  to  beautiful  young  womanhood.  She 
followed  a  war  band  to  Elevado,  and  on  the  retreat, 
a  brave  man,  Estranjero  by  name,  commanded  a  small 
party  of  scouts  that  exterminated  the  band  of  Indians 
and  delivered  the  girl." 

"Ah !"  cried  El  Estranjero.  "This  is  Nawona's  his 
tory.  You  have  been  telling  me  of  her,  poor  child. 
But,  Alice,  how  did  you  find  out  all  these  things?" 

"You  have  seen  that?"  Alice  said,  producing  from 
the  chatelaine  bag  at  her  belt  the  golden  disk  with  the 
old  English  "G"  in  diamonds. 


THE  EEVELATION 


281 


"Yes,  Nawona  showed  it  to  me.  It  is  a  rarely 
beautiful  trinket." 

"This  the  chief  took  from  her  dead  mother  and  wore 
until  his  death;  and  Nawona  wore  it  one  night  when 
Mrs.  Anderson  first  came,  and  at  once  my  friend 
recognized  it  as  a  gift  she  herself  had  made  to  Mary 
Carter  on  the  day  she  married  Joseph  Gratton." 

"How  very  strange,"  mused  El  Estranjero,  turning 
the  locket  in  his  hand  curiously. 

"The  strangest  part  is  yet  to  come.  Does  the  locket 
remind  you  of  anything?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Estranjero  in  surprise. 

"Let  me  have  it,"  Alice  requested. 

He  laid  it  in  her  hand.  She  pressed  the  central 
diamond,  the  little  lever  sprang  out,  she  raised  it,  the 
locket  opened,  and  Estranjero  stared  as  Alice  handed 
it  back  to  him. 

"Look  here,"  she  said,  her  voice  thrilling  with 
excitement,  "look  and  tell  me,  did  you  ever  see  either  of 
those  faces  before?" 

"The  woman's  face  certainly  does  bear  a  strong 
resemblance  to  Nawona's  face,  but  I  cannot  recall  who 
it  is." 

"Look,  look  carefully,"  urged  Alice. 

Long  he  studied  the  fair  miniatures  of  the  woman 
and  man,  then  he  quietly  closed  the  locket  and  gave  it  ? 
to  Alice.     She  sank  tremblingly  into  the  chair,  a  great 


•r 


wave  of  feeling  surging  over  her.     She  would  make 
yet  another  effort. 

She  bent  forward  and  took  both  of  his  hands  in 


282 


EL  ESTRANJERO 


hers.  "Estranjero,"  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  listen 
now  as  you  never  listened  before,  and  think  now  with 
all  the  power  of  your  mind,  for  my  story  is  not  yet 
done." 

Something  of  her  own  excitement  seemed  to  pass 
through  him. 

"Joseph !    I  have  not  yet  told  you  of  Joseph !" 

"But  Joseph  was  killed  by  the  Indians." 

"He  was  struck  down  by  a  bullet,  but  he  was  not 
killed."  Alice  returned  slowly.  "How  many  hours  he 
lay  there  in  the  rain  I  cannot  tell  you,  neither  can  I 
tell  you  of  the  long  weary  miles  of  desert  and  moun 
tain  he  passed  over,  before,  fainting  and  almost  dead, 
he  came  to  the  bank  of  a  little  stream  where  a  horse 
was  grazing.  By  some  means  he  tangled  himself  in 
the  tie  rope  that  the  horse  was  staked  with,  and  he 
was  dragged  unconscious  and  almost  dying  to  the 
very  steps  of  the  veranda  there." 

Estranjero  was  white  as  death,  his  limbs  shook 
under  him,  his  tongue  clave  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 

The  last  few  sentences  had  told  him  the  object  of 
Alice's  story.  He  was  Joseph  Gratton,  Mary  was  his 
wife,  Nawona  was  his  little  daughter  long  lost  and 
completely  hidden  by  the  mists  that  had  enshrouded 
him.  He  bent  his  face  and  covered  it  with  his  hands, 
leaning  his  elbows  upon  his  knees.  Long  he  sat  thus, 
Alice's  whole  soul  going  out  to  him  in  the  agony  of 
her  love. 

Finally  he  stood  up,  and  Alice  arose  and  stood  facing 
him. 


THE  KEVELATION  283 

"Alice,"  he  cried,  "can  this  be  true?" 

She  opened  the  locket  again  and  pointed  to  the 
miniature  of  the  man. 

"Estranjero,"  she  breathed,  "that  is  your  own  face 
there,  and  Mrs.  Anderson  recognized  you  the  moment 
she  saw  you.  She  knew  you  from  the  time  you  were 
a  tiny  child,  she  knew  your  whole  story  up  to  the  time 
you  started  for  the  West,  and  I  have  all  the  proofs 
here,"  and  she  touched  the  chatelaine  bag.  "We  wrote 
to  Washington  and  had  a  search  made  of  the  records." 

"Alice,  I  swear  to  you  before  my  God,  that  I  can 
recall  absolutely  nothing  of  all  my  life,  as  you  have 
told  it  to  me.  Even  now  with  every  effort  you  have 
made,  and  I  see  now  why  your  story  was  told  in  such 
detail,  I  cannot  remember  the  smallest  thing,  the  least 
incident,  the  faintest  glimmering  of  any  life  other 
than  that  which"  began  when  I  opened  my  eyes  in  that 
room  yonder." 

"Estranjero,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  you  are 
Joseph  Gratton.  Not  only  are  there  arrears  of  salary 
amounting  to  many  thousand  dollars,  but  the  Gratton 
plantation  in  Virginia  belongs  to  you.  Your  father  and 
mother  have  been  dead  for  years,  and  you  were  their 
only  child." 

"Alice,  Alice,"  Estranjero  murmured,  "I  am  stunned 
with  all  this,  but  the  thread  of  my  memory  of  the  past 
seems  broken  entirely.  I  cannot  remember — I  cannot 
remember  one  single  thing." 

He  sank  upon  the  bench  that  ran  around  the  side  of 
the  summerhouse,  and  again  covered  his  face.  This 


ESTRANJERO 


time  Alice,  trembling  with  happiness,  sank  down 
beside  him.  She  put  her  arm  about  his  neck  and  laid 
her  head  against  his  shoulder. 

Swiftly  he  turned,  drew  her  to  his  breast,  and  with 
his  arms  about  her,  looked  into  her  happy  eyes. 

"Alice,  Alice,"  he  whispered. 

"Oh,  my  beloved,  I  thank  God  for  the  affliction  that 
makes  you  so  wholly  mine."  Alice  returned  softly. 
"I  had  thought  perhaps  I  might  tell  you  this  story  in 
such  a  way  that  your  past  would  come  back  to  you.  I 
meant  to  be  faithful  to  the  task,  but  you  can't  know 
what  I  suffered  when  I  thought  that  the  sweep  of  the 
| tide  of  memory  of  your  love  for  Mary  would  carry  all 
;thoughts  of  me  forever  out  of  your  heart." 

"Oh,  Alice!"  he  replied,  "I  wish  no  past  that  is  not 
^connected  with  you,  no  present  where  you  are  not,  no 
future  without  you.  You  have  told  me  that  once  I 
|had  a  wife,  that  I  fondly  loved  and  that  she  is  dead. 
!l  do  not  mourn  the  love  that  is  to  me  as  if  it  never 
had  been.  You  have  told  me  that  I  am  the  father  of 
Nawona;  I  have  felt  drawn  to  her  with  a  feeling  of 
protection  from  the  first,  but  there  is  never  a  look 
or  glance  that  can  recall  to  my  mind  that  gentle  woman 
who  was  her  mother.  I  have  no  more  knowledge  of 
that  time  and  those  happenings  than  though  they 
occurred  in  another  life." 

She  smiled  up  at  him.  "Alice,"  he  whispered,  "I 
have  loved  you  from  the  morning  that  I  met  you  there 
at  the  gate,  and  you  walked  forth  like  a  young  goddess 
to  meet  the  sunrise.  I  have  loved  you  every  hour 


THE  KEVELATION 


285 


since,  and  I  have  suffered  in  that  love  and  tried  to 
renounce  it,  but  the  mere  sight  of  you  would  call  it 
all  back  in  its  poignancy." 

"And  I,  too,  Estranjero,"  she  replied,  "I,  too,  have 
suffered.  I  thought  of  you  constantly,  and  I  have 
loved  you,  too,  since  that  morning." 

"And  now,  Alice,"  he  went  on,  "I  am  no  longer 
nameless  and  penniless,  there  is  now  no  longer  need 
of  my  going  forth  to  win  fortune  and  place  to  lay  them 
at  your  feet.  Alice,  will  you  come  forever  to  the  heart 
that  hungers  for  you?" 

She  raised  her  face  to  meet  his,  and  upon  her  lips 
he  placed  the  reverent  seal  of  their  betrothal. 


19 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

A  PUEBLO  WEDDING 

Alice  and  El  Estranjero  sat  long  in  the  summer- 
house  by  the  hedge,  talking  of  the  past  and  planning 
the  future.  The  letter  containing  the  records  of  the 
War  Department  was  carefully  read  again  and  again, 
and  it  was  decided  that  it  would  be  best  to  forward  to 
Mrs.  Anderson's  brother  an  account  of  Estranjero's 
life  since  coming  to  Elevado,  and  leave  it  to  the 
Department  to  grant  such  back  pay  as  would  cover 
as  nearly  as  could  be  estimated  the  period  of  his  active 
military  service. 

Alice  could  not  move  Estranjero  by  any  argument 
to  make  further  demand,  but  he  finally  agreed  that  the 
whole  matter  of  his  back  pay  should  be  left  to  the  dis 
cretion  of  the  friend  who  had  so  far  examined  the 
records  and  was  in  the  best  position  to  know  what  was 
really  just. 

Estranjero  rejoiced  that  this  sum  of  ready  money 
would  make  it  possible  for  him  to  marry  Alice  as  soon 
as  he  received  it,  and  decided  to  remain  at  the  Hoi- 
comb  home  until  that  time. 

As  Alice  replaced  the  letter  in  her  chatelaine  bag, 
when  they  arose  to  go  back  to  the  house,  she  felt  a 
little  orangewood  box.  She  brought  it  out  and  handed 
it  to  Estranjero. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  he  said. 

[286] 


A  PUEBLO  WEDDING 


287 


"Open  it,"  Alice  rejoined,  laughing. 

He  did  so,  and  found  there  the  horsehair  ring  made 
so  long  ago. 

"And  you  have  kept  it  all  these  years?"  he  said. 
"Do  you  remember  the  words  you  dictated  to  me  then, 
Alice?  I  can  say  them  now  with  a  full  heart."  And 
taking  her  in  his  arms,  beneath  the  orange  tree,  he 
tried  to  place  the  ring  upon  her  finger,  as  he  repeated 
the  vow;  but  the  ring  was  too  small  even  for  the 
slender  hand,  and  so  he  begged  Alice  to  give  it  back 
to  him  as  a  memento  to  be  worn  some  day  upon  his 
watch  chain. 

One  thing  they  had  decided  in  that  long  conference 
in  the  arbor,  and  that  was  to  keep  their  affair  a  secret 
for  the  present.  The  next  morning,  however,  an  event 
transpired  that  made  further  secrecy  impossible. 

They  were  all  standing  upon  the  veranda  after 
breakfast,  when  a  messenger  rode  up  with  a  package 
for  Mrs.  Anderson.  She  returned  to  her  own  room 
to  break  the  seal,  and  when  she  came  out  again  her 
face  was  shining  with  joy. 

Alice  had  told  her  that  she  had  related  Estranjero's 
past  life  to  him.  Mrs.  Anderson  had  told  Mr.  Holcomb 
of  her  brother's  investigation  into  El  Estranjero's 
record  while  Estranjero  and  Alice  were  together  in  the 
enchanted  summerhouse.  Philip  already  knew  the 
story  from  Nawona,  but  as  yet  neither  had  been 
informed  that  Estranjero  had  been  made  acquainted 
with  his  past. 

All  were  upon  the  veranda  when  Mrs.  Anderson 


288  EL  ESTEANJEEO 

again  appeared.     She  walked  straight  to  Estranjero 
and  placed  the  package  in  his  hand. 

"Joseph/'  she  said,  "my  brother  decided  to  push 
your  affairs  without  delay,  and  he  was  so  successful 
that  here  is  ten  thousand  dollars  back  pay." 

Estranjero  looked  at  the  packet  an  instant,  then, 
seeing  nothing  but  Alice's  happy  look,  he  dropped  it 
at  her  feet,  and  there,  before  them  all,  he  took  her  into 
his  arms. 

"Oh,  my  darling,  see,"  he  cried,  "you  know  what 
that  money  means  to  us." 

Holcomb  stared  in  astonishment,  and  Alice,  covered 
with  blushes,  extricated  herself  from  her  lover's 
embrace  and  threw  her  arms  about  her  father's  neck. 

"Yes,  my  darling,  I  know,"  said  her  father,  half 
gladly  and  half  sadly. 

Nawona  came  up  and  twined  her  arm  within  that 
of  Estranjero. 

"Oh,  my  dear  friend  and  father,"  she  murmured, 
"I  am  so  happy  for  you." 

He  bent  and  kissed  her.  "I  have  no  memory  of  your 
childhood  or  of  your  mother,  Nawona.  Even  though 
I  have  kind  friends,  and  in  you  and  Philip  loving 
children,  my  life  would  be  very  lonely  were  it  not  for 
my  dear  Alice." 

So  on  Christmas  day  there  were  to  be  two  weddings 
in  the  house  in  the  patio,  for  Estranjero  pleaded  hard 
and  would  not  be  denied.  They  would  be  married 
when  Nawona  and  Philip  exchanged  their  vows,  and 
would  immediately  visit  the  Virginia  plantation  to 


A  PUEBLO  WEDDING  289 

establish  Estranjero's  right  and  sell  the  property; 
for  neither  he  nor  Alice  would  consider  residing  any 
where  but  in  the  pueblo  where  they  had  first  found  and 
loved  one  another,  and  Holcomb  desired  that  they 
should  come  back  and  make  their  home  with  him  in 
the  house  that  would  otherwise  be  desolate. 

Christmas  in  California  is  the  time  when  the  first  of 
the  winter  rains  have  called  out  of  the  bosom  of  the 
earth  its  sleeping  verdure,  and  the  white  roads  are 
hard  and  dustless,  the  air  like  wine,  the  barley  fields 
either  just  turned  up  by  the  plow  or  showing  their 
ravishing  green,  and  the  chaparral  alive  with  the  song 
of  birds.  The  new-born  soul  of  Nature  sings  "peace 
upon  earth  and  good  will  to  men,"  and  upon  such  a 
Christmas  day  the  pueblo  of  Elevado  was  all  astir. 

The  wedding  was  to  be  the  occasion  of  a  fiesta  that  ^ 
was  to  bring  the  neighbors,  both  Spanish  and  Gringo,^ 
for  miles  around,  into  touch  with  one  another.    There 
was  to  be  a  barbecue  in  the  afternoon,  tilting  at  the 
ring,  and  the  other  Spanish  sports  common  to  a  great  vj 
fiesta,  and  at  night  there  was  to  be  dancing  in  the  $ 
patio,  floored  and  decorated  for  the  occasion,  and  a 
never-to-be-forgotten  feast  upon  the  veranda. 

This  was  a  Christmas  day  that  seemed  to  be  created 
for  such  festivities.  Early  in  the  morning  the  company 
of  cavalry  that  had  scouted  over  the  mountains 
returned  dusty  and  weary  to  Elevado,  but  all  thought 
of  fatigue  was  soon  forgotten  as  the  officers  and  men 
freed  themselves  from  the  signs  of  the  campaign  and 
made  themselves  neat  and  spruce  for  the  occasion. 


290 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


Great  was  Colonel  Anderson's  surprise  when  told 
the  singular  history  of  the  man  his  company  had 
rescued  from  death  at  the  stake,  and  all  that  had 
befallen  him  since  he  last  had  seen  him  a  lad  in  his 
father's  house. 

There  is  no  need  to  describe  in  detail  the  fiesta  of 
that  Christmas  day.  Again  the  brush  wickiups  were 
built  along  the  riverside.  Again  the  long  trenches 
were  dug  for  the  barbecuing  of  the  meat,  and  the 
Spanish  musicians,  dressed  in  their  gorgeous  costumes, 
appeared  with  their  mandolins  and  guitars,  ready  to 
dispense  the  music  of  the  dance. 

All  day  in  wagons,  carriages,  and  on  horseback  the 
people  of  the  valley  assembled,  for  there  were  few  who 
had  not  heard  El  Estranjero's  history  and  did  not 
know  that  the  nameless  stranger,  who  had  won  their 
regard  in  the  years  of  his  dwelling  among  them,  was 
now  the  bearer  of  an  honored  name  and  the  owner  of 
a  great  landed  property. 

Francesca  was  resplendent  that  day  in  a  new  scarlet 
gown  and  green  kerchief,  a  present  from  Alice.  Her 
psychic  sympathy  with  Estranjero  was  known  only  to 
the  inmates  of  the  Holcomb  house,  but  they  looked 
upon  her  with  peculiar  reverence,  thinking  how  humble 
is  the  instrument  often  chosen  to  reveal  the  mysteries 
of  life. 

Vera,  too,  was  conspicuous  in  a  yellow  gown  and 
blue  kerchief;  but  it  was  Juan,  in  a  brand  new  suit  of 
store  clothes  that  came  all  the  way  from  the  pueblo 
of  Los  Angeles,  who,  barring  the  two  bridegrooms 


A  PUEBLO  WEDDING  291 

themselves,  was  the  happiest  man  present  upon  that 
happy  day. 

Juan  was  known  to  all  the  Spanish  neighbors  far  and 
near,  and  clusters  of  these  would  form  about  him  and 
beg  him  to  relate  again  the  tale  of  how  the  two  Senors 
were  captured,  how  he  rode  over  the  mountains  and 
met  the  soldiers,  and  how  they  were  released.  Other 
story-tellers  were  there  that  day,  and  while  the  young 
people  strolled,  flirted,  and  danced,  their  elders  heard 
with  deepest  interest  the  adventures  by  flood  and  field 
of  the  heroes  of  this  tale,  and  added  stories  of  their 
own  experience,  none  the  less  true  and  interesting. 

The  barbecue  was  to  be  at  noon,  and  the  wedding 
at  sunset.  Holcomb  was  everywhere  busy  among  his 
guests,  but  the  actors  in  the  wedding  scene  still  were 
secluded  from  view.  Many  of  the  people  present  had 
never  seen  either  Nawona  or  Alice,  and  were  eager  to 
look  upon  the  brides. 

With  what  emotions  Alice  robed  Estranjero's 
daughter  for  her  bridal  can  be  understood  by  those 
who  have  followed  the  progress  of  her  own  love.  The 
sweetness  of  Nawona,  her  youth  and  her  love  for 
Philip,  recalled  the  story  of  that  fair  dead  woman 
who  was  her  mother.  The  locket  that  held  her  mother's 
face  was  the  young  bride's  only  ornament,  and,  as  she 
stood  there  in  all  her  fairness,  Alice  took  her  in  her 
arms,  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  blessed  her. 

"Oh,  little  rose  of  the  desert,"  she  said,  "may  you 
bloom  in  new  beauty  in  the  garden  into  which  Philip  <8 
transplants  you." 


292 


EL  ESTEANJERO 


"And  you,  dear  Alice,  to  whom  I  owe  so  much,  your 
life  must  be  very  happy  to  return  to  you  the  measure 
of  happiness  you  have  given  to  others.  I  owe  you  so 
much;  how  can  I  ever  repay  you?" 

"By  loving  me,"  replied  Alice,  "and  taking  me  into 
the  place  of  the  mother  you  lost  so  long  ago." 

They  stood  gazing  at  each  other,  both  in  simple 
white  gowns,  with  orange  flowers  gathered  from  their 
own  orchard,  twined  in  their  hair,  and  white  roses 
from  their  own  garden  in  a  great  sheaf  for  each,  ready 
to  their  hand.  Then  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door  and 
Philip,  in  his  wedding  finery,  looked  in.  He  was 
visibly  nervous  and  spoke  hoarsely  to  Alice. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  something;  come  here  into  the 
hall  a  moment." 

Alice  went  out,  closed  the  door  behind  her,  a  little 
startled  at  his  manner. 

"Alice,"  he  said  desperately,  "tie  this  necktie  or  I 
will  hang  myself  with  it  in  despair.  I  have  tied 
it,  I  know,  forty  times,  and  look  at  it." 

Alice  laughed  merrily. 

"Oh,  Laddie,  it  does  look  awful,  but  I'll  have  it 
right  for  you  in  a  jiffy.  There,"  and  she  patted  the 
finished  bow,  "you're  all  right." 

"Gracious!  Chummie,  how  splendid  you  are  in  that 
white  dress.  But  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I'm  scared 
to  death,  and  if  Nawona  will  come,  I'll  run  away  with 
her,  and  then  I  won't  have  to  face  the  crowd." 

Nawona  now  peered  out  to  see  what  was  the  reason 
this  long  conference,  and  Philip  embraced  her 


A  PUEBLO  WEDDING 


293 


rapturously,  but  Alice  stamped  her  little  foot  in  mock 
anger. 

"Drop  her,  Philip,  drop  her  I  say.  If  you  rumple 
her,  there  won't  be  any  wedding."  Then  taking  the 
laughing  girl  by  the  hand,  she  again  led  her  to  her 
own  room. 

Scarcely  were  they  settled  again,  when  there  was 
another  tap  at  the  door,  and  this  time  Nawona  went 
forward.  Estranjero  stood  at  the  door  and  beckoned 
her.  She  gave  a  mischievous  glance  toward  Alice, 
and  shut  the  door  behind  her,  as  she  stepped  into  the 
passage. 

"Nawona,  dear,"  he  said,  "I'd  like  you  to  look  me 
over,  and  see  if  I  seem  all  right.  I  never  wore  such 
clothes  as  these  before,  and  I  feel  some  way  as  if  they 
were  not  my  own." 

"You  are  all  right,  Estranjero,"  said  Nawona, 
smiling.  She  could  not  learn  to  call  him  father. 

Just  then  the  Spanish  musicians  in  tile  patio  struck 
up  the  wedding  march,  and  Philip,  coming  swiftly 
down  the  passage,  clasped  Nawona's  hand.  "It  is 
time,"  he  whispered,  "my  little  bride,  it  is  time." 

Estranjero  softly  turned  the  knob  and  opened  the 
door.  Alice,  pale  and  lovely,  stood  in  the  corner  of 
the  room.  He  reached  out  his  hands  to  her.  "Alice," 
he  said,  "come." 

And  so  they  went  and  stood  before  the  chancel  made 
of  pepper  boughs,  under  a  canopy  of  roses  and  orange 
flowers,  and  just  as  the  last  words  of  the  benediction 
upon  their  new  life  were  pronounced  the  mocking  bird 


294 


EL  ESTEANJEEO 


in  the  rosebush  began  to  trill  his  melody.  Alice's 
gaze  sought  that  of  her  husband.  Both  thought  of 
the  moonlight  night  when  he  had  said :  "Alice,  my 
soul  is  calling  you."  Looking  into  the  depths  of  her 
sweet  eyes,  he  now  read  his  answer,  and  knew  that 
nevermore  would  he  be  to  her  "El  Estranjero,"  the 
stranger. 

I/ENVOI 

There  are  persons  who  will  read  this  tale  and 
declare  that  Francesca's  perception  of  those  events 
relating  to  Estranjero  was  wholly  created  by  the 
author  and  has  no  foundation  in  fact.  They  will  say, 
too,  that  a  loss  of  memory,  whether  it  be  complete  or 
partial,  is  a  self-evident  symptom  of  insanity  and  must 
be  progressive  until  the  diseased  brain  becomes  the 
mind-organ  of  a  maniac. 

Such  statements  are  fully  controverted  by  the 
researches  of  modern  science.  Double  personality  is 
such  a  common  phenomenon  that  it  is  recognized  as  a 
leading  psychic  element  in  crime. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson  showed  in  "Dr.  Jekyll  and 
Mr.  Hyde"  how  two  individuals  dwelt  in  the  same 
person  and  gave  an  objective  and  subjective  conscious 
ness  wholly  out  of  touch  with  one  another,  as  in  some 
forms  of  mental  disease. 

Many  people  have  been  so  affected  by  a  long  fever 
that  they  have  no  real  memory  of  what  happened 
before,  their  imagination  furnishing  the  details  of  that 
part  of  their  life,  and  through  the  constantly  recalling 


L 'ENVOI  295 

by  those  around  them  of  places  and  people  they  once 
knew,  they  reconstruct  their  past,  but  do  not  really 
remember  it. 

The  strange  surroundings  in  which  Estranjero  found 
himself  of  course  made  such  reconstruction  impossible. 

Again  these  objectors  may  urge  that  such  telepathic 
communications  as  are  described  in  the  experiences  of 
Francesca,  are  mere  figments  of  the  imagination.  The 
science  of  the  mind  is  still  in  its  infancy  and  none  is 
bold  enough  to  assert  what  it  may  yet  disclose. 

Some  of  our  most  learned  and  scientific  theorists 
have  advanced  the  idea  of  mental  telepathy,  which  has 
been  accepted  by  not  a  few  of  our  more  progressive 
thinkers.  There  are  many  who  would  state  from  the 
existing  body  of  testimony  that  no  further  proof  is 
necessary  to  convince  the  investigating  student  that 
such  communication  has  taken  place. 

There  are  many  writers  on  psychic  phenomena  who 
claim  that  such  communication  has  been  proven  over 
and  over  again,  and  that  on  this  subject  there  can  be 
no  grounds  for  argument.  I  myself  have  known  of 
instances  of  that  character  so  thoroughly  verified  that 
they  hardly  admitted  of  a  doubt.  A  friend  of  mine 
who  was  staying  with  me  in  New  York  City  years 
before  I  came  to  the  Coast  had  what  he  believed  to  be 
a  dream,  which  he  related  the  next  morning  at  the 
breakfast  table.  He  said  that  his  brother,  a  widower, 
who  was  living  in  Australia,  appeared  to  him  in  the 
might,  and  told  him  that  he  was  sick  and  that  he  did 
not  expect  to  live,  and  asked  his  brother  to  come  to 


296 


EL  ESTBANJERO 


Australia  and  take  his  little  baby  girl  and  care  for  her. 
So  deeply  impressed  was  my  friend  by  this  dream, 
that  he  wrote  to  friends  in  Sydney,  asking  them  for  a 
word  about  his  brother's  health,  and  in  reply 
received  word  of  his  death.  Mr.  Nichols — that 
was  my  friend's  name — afterwards  read  the  letter  to 
me.  It  was  indeed  a  strong  confirmation  of  the 
theory  of  mental  telepathy.  His  brother  had  died  a 
few  days  after  this  so-called  dream.  On  his  deathbed 
he  told  his  attendants  and  physicians  that  he  had  a 
brother  living  in  New  York,  who  would  come  for  the 
little  one,  as  he  had  seen  him  and  begged  him  to  do  so. 
As  his  brother  was  still  alive  when  my  friend  had  the 
dream,  it  could  not  have  been  his  disembodied  spirit 
that  appeared;  and  I  cannot  conceive  of  any  other 
method  of  communication  than  that  of  mental 
telepathy. 

I  have  sat  before  the  grate  fire  with  my  wife  or 
some  friend,  dreamily  gazing  into  the  fire,  when  some 
event  suddenly  would  intrude  upon  my  thoughts, 
and  when  I  turned  to  tell  my  companion  found  that 
the  same  idea  had  occurred  to  her  or  him  at  precisely 
the  same  moment.  I  suppose  most  of  you  have  had  the 
same  experience  in  thought  waves,  though  possibly 
not  giving  such  phenomena  much  attention,  or 
endeavoring  to  study  out  the  philosophy  of  mental 
telepathy  from  a  scientific  standpoint. 

I  could  cite  many  well  authenticated  instances  of 
communication  from  mind  to  mind,  but  will  call  your 
attention  only  to  one  other  such  incident.  An 


L 'ENVOI  297 

acquaintance  of  mine,  staying  at  the  Astor  in  New 
York,  was  taken  violently  ill  at  the  hotel,  and  during 
his  illness  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  closely  bordering  on 
insanity.  During  one  day  and  night  of  this  time  he 
tossed  backward  and  forward  from  side  to  side  of 
his  bed,  calling  repeatedly  for  his  wife,  who  was 
then  staying  with  friends  in  New  Orleans.  So  pitiful 
did  his  pleadings  for  his  wife  become  that  I  determined 
to  wire  her  the  third  day  if  he  was  no  better. 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  refrained  from  doing  so,  for 
fear  of  giving  her  a  shock,  not  believing  his  life  was 
in  serious  danger.  The  third  day  he  seemed  so  much 
better  that  I  decided  not  to  wire,  and  about  noon  felt 
free  to  go  out  for  a  little  fresh  air.  I  had  gotten 
as  far  as  the  office  of  the  hotel,  when  I  was  met  by  a 
bellboy  with  a  telegram  which  proved  to  be  from  his 
wife,  and  the  contents  of  which  so  impressed  me  at  the 
time  that  I  am  able  to  repeat  it  at  this  day.  It  read : 

"Is  anything  the  matter  with  Arthur  ?  Have  dread 
ful  dreams.  Seem  to  hear  him  calling.  Am,  greatly 
worried.  Answer  at  once. 

MRS.  ARTHUR  SINCLAIR/' 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sinclair  are  both  still  living  and  will 
at  any  time  verify  this  statement. 

Many  writers  on  psychic  occulta  believe  that  subjec 
tive  mentality  may  influence  thought  in  receptive  minds 
when  the  objective  being  is  in  a  dormant  state  or 
past  the  power  of  intelligent  action.  It  has  ever  been 
demonstrated  that  one  mind  can  act  as  a  medium  for 


298  EL  ESTRANJEEO 

the  transmission  of  thought  to  a  third  through  sub 
jective  consciousness  without  the  aid  of  objective 
faculties.  Indeed,  this  has  occurred  without  the  knowl 
edge  of  the  objective  consciousness  being  sufficient 
for  retention  in  the  objective  memory.  This  thought 
action  has  been  brought  about  by  hypnotic  influence, 
and  many  experiments,  both  in  private  and  public,  have 
demonstrated  it. 

It  was  perfectly  possible  for  Estranjero  to  exert  this 
influence  unconsciously,  and  without  his  own  volition, 
and  thousands  of  cases  of  such  telepathic  influence 
have  occurred.  There  is  nothing  more  natural  to  sup 
pose  than  that  the  telepathic  waves,  like  those  of  heat, 
light,  and  electricity,  would  always  seek  the  path  of 
least  resistance.  Thus  Francesca's  vision  becomes  a 
recognized  scientific  fact  and  not  the  mere  figment  of  a 
romancer's  fancy. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


1953  LU 
23Feb'57LS 

REC'D  LD 

MAY  7    1957 

DEC  10 1969 


LD  21-100w-7,'52(A2528sl6)476 


M314155 


